


A Love I Can Never Have

by ExTeenageDirtbag



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Billy Hargrove is a Mess, Brother-Sister Relationships, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Dyslexia, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Gay Billy Hargrove, Hallucinations, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Instability, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Neither is Steve, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Pre-Season/Series 03, Recreational Drug Use, Season 3 rewrite, Sibling Bonding, Sleep Deprivation, Slow Burn, Survival, The Upside Down, billy isn't soft, grevious overuse of commas, heather and billy are best bros, robin and heather love their dumb boys, steve's having a bi crisis, the racism thing gets addressed, trapped in the upside down
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-09-24 23:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExTeenageDirtbag/pseuds/ExTeenageDirtbag
Summary: “Hargrove what the hell is your problem?” Harrington says, walking up and grabbing him roughly by the shoulder, acting like the good little white knight everyone pretends he is.The only problem is he's not, and Maxine sure as shit ain’t no goddamn damsel in distress.“I can take care of myself Steve!” Max says before the brunette even finishes spinning Billy around to face him. She pulls her leg back, grips the lip of the trunk where she’s perched and kicks Billy in the hip, the bottom of her shoe landing flat on the crest of bone. It fucking hurts and he’s probably going to be missing skin, his thin t-shirt not doing shit to protect against the thick rubber soles.





	1. Oh Here We Go

**Author's Note:**

> So many feelings about this pretty blonde boy. So many. Anyway this one is going to be a slow burn and very sad so strap in. Billy deserves some love but he's also a shit so he's gonna have to work (suffer) for it.
> 
> This contains multiple POV's and I'd like to stress that the way each character interpenetrates an action or situation is not always as it actually is.  
I'll add more tags as needed, this one is going to be pretty long as I plan on re writing for most of season three as well as the events the preceding it. 
> 
> *Tops are a brand of rolling papers, idk how long they've been around but it's what I use.
> 
> Also follow me on Twitter or general bs and updates and ideas @bag_ex

**Prelude **

If someone had asked Steve Harrington where he thought he would be in six months, the list of acceptable answers  _ could  _ include taking a gap year and working at the mall, having a kick ass coworker/friend, and carting the kids around from place to place in his free time. 

It did  _ not _ include: the stupid sailor uniform that came with said mall job, having to play wingman for said coworker who was gay for one of their classmates, or being pulled into whatever nonsense the kids got up to nowadays. 

It would not have included being genuinely  _ happy.  _

It also **definitely** would **absolutely** **not** have included **fucking** Billy Hargrove in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy! while Robin covered for him out front, kids pestering her endlessly about where Steve was. 

Life was funny like that though, he supposed as he pressed his hand over Billy's mouth to try and stifle the  wonderfully <strike> terribly</strike> indecent moans coming from the blonde underneath him. 

Life was also a dusty bitch and while Steve was eternally grateful things turned out as well as they did,(i.e. With he and Billy  _ technically _ dating and not dead or still trapped in the Upside Down) he can’t help but wish the path here hadn’t been so painfully terrifying.

* * *

**The Final Countdown!**

It's been weeks since the night Billy nearly caved Steve Harrington's face in, the days passing in a blur of class work, basketball practice, and shitty holiday parties. 

None of Max's little friends had so much as made eye contact with him since then, quickly scampering out of sight whenever he had to drop her off at the arcade or one of their homes. Not that Billy minds much, he's glad to have those little shits be terrified of him if it means they'll leave him alone. 

Harrington hasn't so much as acknowledged his existence either, actively avoiding him at school and even going so far as to miss practice, which is only slightly inconvenient -Steve is the only other player who doesn't suck ass- which leaves Billy playing circles around everyone else. (And he definitely doesn't think about the small scrap of paper Harrington had presented to coach the Monday after their powwow at Byers', a doctor's signature scrawled messily on the bottom of the slip.) 

Thankfully school gives him something to occupy his mind and time with, gives him an excuse to stay out of the house, away from Neil's stress induced fits of rage and Susan's sickening holiday spirit. Since they’d moved Neil had become more and more unpredictable, his temper seemingly on a hair trigger and Billy’s terrible attitude the center of his ire. It made Billy nervous and wary while he was home and he tried to keep out of sight as much as possible (like that ever did him any good, like Neil wouldn’t come and  _ find _ him). 

After the little stunt Maxine pulled in November his old man had practically been breathing down his neck, watching, waiting for him to fuck up again. Just looking for an excuse to start something. 

(Billy felt like it probably had something to do with work too but he wasn’t about to fucking ask, like he actually gave a shit.) And Susan, Jesus, the woman had been walking around with the fucking Christmas spirit shining out her ass since October and it was nauseating to deal with. Her stupid cheery attitude made him grind his teeth together hard enough to give himself a headache on more than one occation.

Eventually winter break finally rolled around, meaning he had no school, no practice, no nothing and it just made everything so much more tense. Billy felt ready to vibrate out of his own skin whenever he was alone with his father, ghosting around the house at night and staying locked in his own room during the day while Neil and Susan did whatever married people did when they weren’t at work.

Christmas itself was a pitiful event mostly because money was tight, though they're better off than they'd been in California (at least here they aren't living in a trailer) and every spare cent gets spent on presents for Max and a set of pearls for Susan. He doesn't really care much though, he hasn't gotten a Christmas present since his mom was alive so it's not really an issue, he just finds it annoying that he has to sit around all morning and watch Max open her shit and pose for fakey family photos when he could be sleeping. 

Neil calls him a lazy fuck but Billy just ignores him. He’s felt tired ever since that night at the Byers' house, a lingering exhaustion that he can't seem to shake. 

(A part of him wonders if it's got anything to do with that syringe Max jammed in his neck but he doesn't dwell on it long. It's easier to blame his lackluster mood on the cold and cloudy skies rather than acknowledge the fact that he's pissed that Maxine had managed to wiggle out from under his thumb, leaving him alone and adrift in this miserable little town.)

Max herself isn't speaking to him either, which he understands to begin with and even enjoys the first few days; he beat the living shit out of Harrington and threatened to rough up her little boyfriend so he figures the cold shoulder is acceptable. It's definitely preferable to that gnarly fucking nail bat she nearly diced his family jewels with. 

The silence is welcome  _ -preferable _ \- to her endless screeching and yelling. 

Until it's not. 

Two weeks of absolute silence was all it took before it started grating on his nerves. Because really? What damn lady balls did she have to give him the cold shoulder after the shit he got in because of her? Oh it hadn't been pretty, that's for sure, Neil had worked him over good for showing up at 3am, sans Maxine  _ or  _ his car, looking stoned as hell. It was even worse when the  _ fucking Police Cheif  _ dropped her off the following morning with some story about a misunderstanding about a sleep over. Neil seemed to accept the flimsy excuse, but not without giving Billy a rough shove into his dresser the minute Hopper pulled out of the driveway; a push being the opening act to that lovely little  _ lesson _ . 

_ "She was at a damn sleepover and you couldn't manage to find her?! She's only got so many friends in this town. Do I even want to know how you were stupid enough to  _ ** _lose your car?" _ ** _ Neil said sternly, hand coming down to connect against his son's cheek with a sharp 'smack'. Billy's eyes stung as he looked up at his father from his position slumped against his dresser, eyes nearly crossing as they tried to focus on the finger pointed at his face.  _

_ "Man up and cut the water works or I'll give you a real reason to cry you fucking fairy."  _

Neil made him cry anyway. _ _

Max’s little quiet act continues, and it does nothing to quell the resentment he feels towards her, at what she gets away with. Because at the end of the day that's what it's about for her, right? 

_ What can Maxine get away with, how far can she push the limits of Neil’s patience  _ <strike> _ the limits of Billy’s resilience _ </strike> _ ? _

Pretty fucking far when she wasn't the one dealing with the fallout. 

Because anything she did was his fault, anything she  _ didn't  _ do was his fault and it was fucking infuriating. Realistically he knows that’s why he pushes back against her, is loud and mean and rude and hateful, why he rages against her the way he can't fight against his father. So he can have some semblance of control over  _ something,  _ even if its just his bitch of a step-sister. (Because  _ she’s _ the one that’s out of control  just like him  and as unfair and fucked up as he knows it is, he can’t  _ stop. _ Sometimes he doesn’t even realize the way he’s coming across to her until things have escalated far past any reasonable point; because if Maxine Mayfield is anything, she’s stubborn as fuck. Just like him. Unwilling to back down or admit they’re wrong.)

But now he doesn't even have that does he? She'd threatened him with that nail bat like the little psycho she was and for a moment it reminded him Neil, using violence and anger to force the proper behavior and responses out of him. Like Billy is some misbehaving dog they're trying to beat obedience into. 

When their break starts she makes a point to not be in the same room of the house as him if she can help it and he lets her, making her go out of her way to get her mother or Neil to ask Billy to take her here and there since she won’t nut up and ask him herself. It’s petty but he’ll take what he can get for now, when they’re in the house and he can’t scream and scare the shit out of her like he does in the Camaro. 

* * *

**New Years: **

**Drink My Insides Rotten**

New Year's rolls around and there's a party out at Tammy Thompson's house but Billy can't find the energy to give enough of a shit to bother going, free booze or not. His interest in impressing these backwoods hicks has dwindled down to a simmer now that he’s busted up Herrington’s face, taken his title as keg king, and cemented his reputation as resident bad boy and lady killer. From here he plans to just coast through the rest of the school year till he can get the hell out of town. 

So here he is at the house with Neil, Susan, and Max; they're all having dinner and pretending to be a normal little  _ family _ when he eyes Max from the other side of the table, noting she still hasn't spoken directly to him the whole time. 

Determined to win whatever little game it is she's playing, Billy decides to push a bit since it's been over a month of her completely stonewalling him. 

Neil and Susan exchange annoyed and concerned looks respectively when Billy makes an off-handed comment about how she's hanging around with nothing but  _ boys _ . 

Max's grip on her fork tightens and her eyes cut over to him sharply but still, she says nothing. It’s almost amusing how easy it is to rile her up nowadays, feeling the waves of  _ fuck off _ radiating from her very core as her self imposed silence keeps her mouth pressed tightly shut.

Billy props his forearm on the table to lean a little closer towards her, giving her the fakest look of brotherly concern he can, batting his eyes. "It's just kinda  _ weird _ you know?” 

Susan makes a small 'hmm' before putting her glass down and letting her eyes skitter over to her daughter while saying "It is a bit odd dear. Don’t you think it's about time you made some  _ female _ friends?" 

Max's cheeks turn the same ugly shade of red as her hair and Billy bites his tongue to keep from outright laughing at her but does nothing to hide the nasty grin plastered across his face. 

" _ Mom _ my friends are fine." She mutters angrily while stabbing at a piece of chicken on her plate and Billy feels her kick him under the table. Well, she tries to, her legs are too short so the toe of her shoe barely brushes his knee but he scowls at her all the same and smacks her foot away with the hand he has resting on his thigh.

Neil looks between them, raising an eyebrow at the intense glare Max has fixed on her brother before clearing his throat and leveling Billy with an appraising look. 

"Well, as her older brother, it's your  _ responsibility _ to make sure nothing  _ weird _ is going on, isn't it?" 

At that Billy's mood immediately sours, appetite evaporating along with his amusement at taunting Max. Leave it to his old man to be a fucking buzzkill.

He feels the tension in his shoulders as the anger runs over him, like it's bleeding into the rest of his body from the base of his skill, making everything feel tight and hot. He glares at Max when he sees the small smirk pulling the corners of her mouth back and imagines grabbing her head and slamming it onto the table. It should make him feel bad, she’s just a kid, but in the moment he couldn’t give a shit less. It doesn’t matter that she’s a child, she’s a little  _ shit _ and the darker part of him wants to see a bright red mark streaked across her face, a mirror of what he sees so often when he looks at himself. 

"Answer me when I speak to you." 

Billy grits his teeth and leans back in his chair to stare across the table at Neil. "Yes sir."

His father stares him down long enough that he starts to get uncomfortable, like he’s gauging Billy’s tone before the man finally makes some noise of disappointment and goes back to his food. 

It's then that Billy decides he would like to be anywhere but this kitchen, this house. 

_ This town _ . 

He takes his plate and tosses it in the sink before walking towards the front door and grabbing his jacket, the dark leather feeling soft and pliant under his fingertips. 

"I'm going to a party."

"As long as you keep quiet when you come back." He hears Neil say from the other room and silently thanks whatever god there is that his father seems to be in a good mood. 

* * *

As he pulls up to a nice looking two story house that has drunk high schoolers nearly spilling out of every open doorway on the bottom and top floors he feels something hot in his chest. It’s not anxiety really, large crowds don’t bother him and he doesn’t give a shit about gate crashing but he knows that he’ll probably lose his cool if anyone tries to start shit with him, at the barest hint of confrontation and it...bothers him. 

After what happened with Harrington there’s a small, minuscule part of him that wonders if the next fight he gets in will be the one where he finally does kill someone. He has no delusions about his intentions that night (the ones he can remember). He had been planning to beat the taller boy’s face in until he  _ couldn’t  _ get up again. Granted it had been a fleeting thought in the heat of the moment but he remembers it distinctly, the idea of - _ put him down for good-  _ and honestly? It scared the shit out of him. 

The idea that he was so angry, so razzed up, so  _ hellbent _ on making someone else hurt like that, that he could kill them? It was terrifying, knowing that deep down he’s nothing but pent up rage and hate, packed into a tight ball, waiting to explode at a moments notice; all he needed was just a little  _ push. _

_ There’s something not right about you. Something bad and twisted and  _ ** _dark._ **

Billy’s fingers twitch where they rest against the steering wheel.

He feels the energy buzzing beneath his skin, adrenaline pumping through him trying to find a way out. 

Yanking his keys out of the ignition before he can sit here and work himself into some kind of episode, Billy climbs out of his car and stalks up the front lawn with a scowl set firmly in place.

His  <strike> anxiety </strike> anger ratchets up another notch as soon as he steps foot in Thompson's house.

No one looks at him, or even acknowledges that he's there.

And  _ ok _ , it's nearly 10 p.m. so everyone is already pretty wasted, but it still pisses him off when he ghosts through the house without a single person commenting on his attendance. 

He makes a bee line for the kitchen where he knows all the booze is and manages to find an unopened can of beer that's still semi cold sitting on the counter. He swipes it up and dodges through the crowd of people to wander out on the back porch to smoke, cold be damned. As he walks outside he nearly runs head first into none other than King Steve himself.

Billy stops short, blocking the doorway and lets his eyes trail over the other boy, taking in the can of Budwiser held loosely between his thin fingers to the dark circles ringing his tired looking eyes. Most of the bruising and scratches had faded over the month, leaving behind only faint scars and slightly discolored skin around his eyes and nose. 

"Jesus Harrington, you look like shit." Billy quips as he eases forward just enough to close the sliding door behind him. It's also just enough for him to be in Harrington’s personal space and the brunette backs up a step, eyeing Billy wearily, like he's afraid the blonde is going to start throwing punches. 

"Fuck off Hargrove." Harrington says before crushing the can in his fist and flinging it out into the yard, the sound of it landing softly in the grass drowned out by the whoops and yells of the people inside. Billy plasters on his signature grin, tongue darting out to run across his teeth momentarily before he sticks a cigarette between his lips and lights it, inhaling a lungful of smoke and blowing it in Harrington's face. 

Steve's jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth and Billy winks sweetly. "Aw don't be like that princess. I know this party is boring but it'll be much better now that I'm here." He watches in amusement as the taller boy shoves his hands in his pockets and glares at him, scoffing before nodding his head in the direction of the house, Billy watches his hair flop over his forehead with the motion.

"You think so? Billy, you weren't even  _ invited _ . Everyone thinks you're a psychopath after what happened last month. Or is your ego  _ that _ big that you didn't notice everyone trying to steer clear of you?" 

Billy feels his blood pressure rise and his expression flips into a deep frown. He feels the anger from before building up, rolling just under his skin like ocean waves on a stormy day. He bites the filter of his smoke trying to resist the temptation to spit it at Harrington's face, only because it's the last one in the pack and he needs the nicotine.

Because it had  _ not _ escaped his notice, actually. He'd been acutely aware of the way everyone had kept their distance from him in the hallways since that day, how they probably whispered behind his back. The way no one dared speak to him, afraid of setting him off. He was aware, but he didn't give a shit about it, because he didn't give a shit about those people or their stupid fucking opinions of him. He didn't care. He wasn't there to be anyone's friend, he was there to fuck around, to be top dog for what was left of the school year, get his diploma, then take his ass back to Cali. 

Billy just snorts, blowing smoke out of his nose and pushes Harrington back firmly. "Fuck do I care? I'm not here for people like, I'm here to fuck bitches and take titles.  _ King."  _

"Well good for you." The taller boy says while giving him that deadpan expression. Ugh. It's  _ so _ condescending it makes Billy's jaw tick as he takes a long pull on the cigarette still clenched between his teeth and Harrington squares his shoulders, ready for a fist to come flying his way. And this is it, this is the push Billy’s been waiting, anticipating,  _ looking  _ for.

_ Stay away from my friends! Say you understand! SAY IT!  _

Max’s voice bounces around in his head like a pinball and the side of his neck tingles with phantom pains.

So instead Billy gives him a tight smile before he upends the can in his hand and finishes it off in one go, dropping the butt of his cigarette in it and flinging it out into the yard. Harrington watches it sail over his shoulder while only looking mildly affronted, a few stray drops from the container landing on the collar of his shirt. 

"See you around pretty boy." Billy says, all sharp smiles and sharper eyes as he turns on his heel and makes his way back inside for something a little harder than Budwiser. 

The rest of his night is a thousand piece puzzle of mismatched moments and thoughts all jammed together into some bastardized amalgamation of misery, loneliness, and too much whiskey.

_ He grabs the first liquor bottle he can find and takes 5 shots back to back before shotgunning a beer, everyone around him laughing and jeering _

  
  
  


_ He's climbing up the stairs, some blonde hanging onto the back of his jacket as she giggles drunkenly _

  
  
  


_ He's staring at himself in the mirror of Thompson's bathroom, the curl of his hair, half lidded eyes, head leaned back so his throat is exposed. The girl's head bobbing back and forth between his thighs _

  
  
  


_ A bedroom. An orange bottle. _

_ Rattle, rattle.  _

_ He takes some _

  
  


_ Harrington? Brown hair _

_ Smells good  _

  
  
  


_ Cold  _

  
  
  


_ Headlights _

  
  
  


_ I don’t like me either _

* * *

Steve watches Hargrove turn on his heel and stalk back into the house in a swirl of drugstore cologne and blonde curls, leaving the taller boy standing alone in the cold. He hunches further into his gray coat despite the lack of wind and scowls to himself. He'd only come to this party at Nancy's insistence, she said he needed to get out of the house - _ out of his own head- _ and socialize. Said she was  _ worried  _ about him for whatever reason. And Steve knows, he  _ knows _ Nancy is trying to help as best she can given the frankly ludicrous situation they'd gotten tangled up in. Like, how do you really offer support to someone who spent a night fighting for their life against inter-dimensional monsters in a creepy underground tunnel with a bunch of  _ fourteen year olds _ and has been subsequently fucking traumatized by it? (Not that Steve is traumatized or anything, he just has nightmares about it sometimes. That's totally normal though, has to be after all that freaky shit. He just needs to give his brain time to process everything and he'll be back to normal. Totally fine). 

He made his way back inside a few moments later when he was sure Hargrove had migrated a decent distance from the doorway that Steve wouldn't run the chance of running into him again and grabbed another beer from the kitchen. Everyone around him were in varying stages of drunkenness and it was grating on his nerves, left him wishing he still had the desire to get so plastered he couldn't feel his face. 

Well, it wasn't that he didn't  _ want _ to, because he definitely did. It was that he just couldn't make himself do it. It felt like it was too much effort.

_ Everything  _ these days felt like too much effort honestly. 

It definitely didn't help that he barely slept anymore. The constant exhaustion was, well,  _ exhausting.  _ It hadn't been as bad while they had been out for winter break because he could laze around his house all day and catch cat naps here and there while the sun was out. Then the kids had been asking to hang out more and more frequently which he totally didn't mind. He loved hanging out with them and having someone to interact with was… It helped, despite the fact they were all kids.

However. 

There was only so much he could talk about with them  _ because _ they were kids, regardless of how intelligent they all were. He couldn't really talk to them about the shit with Nancy and Johnathan, how much it still fucking  _ hurt _ to have to see them and talk to them almost every day. About how some nights he woke up screaming so hard his throat felt sore for hours after. The nightmares that kept playing even after he was awake and scrambling out of bed for the nail bat. The constant anxiety of always feeling like there was something  _ watching _ him from the woods in his backyard. Having to be near that goddamn pool. 

Yeah, he could give them some surface level bullshit about why he was being so jumpy or why he looked dead on his feet or '_Steve are you drinking _**_more _**_coffee?' _but there was _no_ _way_ he could unload the full scope of the psychological shit storm rattling around in his brain to them. 

Shit maybe he should get wasted, before his thoughts started spiraling even more and he worked himself into some kind of anxiety attack in the middle of a sea of drunk sweaty teenagers. 

The brunette managed to elbow his way out the front door and down the 

driveway, crowd slowly thinning the farther away from the house he got. 

Reaching into his pocket he pulls out what was left of a joint he’d smoked a bit of earlier. He’s gets about two good hits from it before there’s nothing left to burn but Tops* and he flicks the smoldering paper onto the wet pavement, head buzzing lightly from the grass and the drink he’s had tonight. Steve wouldn’t exactly say he’s relaxed, but he’s much less tense than when he’d arrived, all stiff shoulders and quiet observation.

His reprieve doesn’t last long.

Just as Steve was walking up to his car a strong arm was thrown around his neck, the smell of whiskey and that familiar cologne washed over him as he nearly lept out of his skin, heart slamming against his ribcage and brain spinning into overdrive  _ -dangertunnelsvinesgetaway- _

He shoved Hargrove away from himself out of reflex while he tried to tamp down his fight or flight response without letting the other boy see how much he was freaking out. 

The blonde let out a weird noise before falling into the hood of Steve's car and sliding off, crashing into the hard pavement below him. 

And then he started laughing like it was the funniest goddamn thing in the world as Steve gathered himself enough to actually look at Hargrove. 

"Jesus man how wasted are you?" Steve asked as he watched Billy  _ giggle _ maniacally while sprawled nearly underneath his car, one hand on the grill of the car and the other clutching a nearly empty bottle of unmarked liquor. 

" _ Dude,  _ sooo not was'ed enough." He slurred while pushing himself into a sitting position slumped against the Beemer. His hair was all over the place, golden curls falling messily around his face and shoulders and the leather jacket he had been wearing when he'd arrived was missing, leaving him in a hole-y black t-shirt that looked like it was wet down one side. In the dim light from the house Steve could see how glazed over the younger boy's eyes were,  _ he was fucking gone _ . 

Billy laughed again and it made Steve's skin crawl, reminded him of that night at the Byers'. He could hear the  _ crack _ that plate made when it shattered over his head. The feeling of his back being pressed into the floorboards and the weight of the other boy across his hips as he threw punch after punch, each one knocking more and more awareness out of him like candy from a pinãta. 

He hears his name 

_ Harrington!  _

and that tan face appears in front of him. 

His reaction is instantaneous. 

He plants his feet, reels his arm back, and slams his fist into the side of Hargrove's face, the force of it knocking the other boy off his feet and sending him into the dew covered lawn behind him. The bottle falls from his grasp, landing on the ground with a tooth rattling clatter but doesn't break. For a moment everything stops and Steve stares down at the body laying before him, watches the blonde bring his hand up to where Steve's fist had impacted. 

"Stay the fuck away from me Hargrove." The taller boy spits as he watches Billy push himself up unsteadily. 

"Glad you learn'ta plant’cha goddamn feet." He murmurs,  _ slurs, _ after a beat, reaching over for the bottle laying at Steve's feet and nearly falling on his face when he over balances. "Fuck. 'm fucked. Did- I freaked ya out ‘ second ago, di'n' I?" 

" _ No,  _ you didn't. I just don't want you near me. So  _ fuck. Off."  _ Steve grinds out, not looking at the way Billy's eyes shine in the light as he looks up at the brunette through the stray curls falling in his eyes. Hargrove just 'hmm's and starts looking around at the ground and fumbling at his pockets. "Was gonna.. Been lookin' for 'm damn keys." And Steve's eyes nearly bug out of his head as he reaches down to pick up the small key ring that Billy's over looked at least 3 times now. "You're going to drive home. Like this?" Steve can't even believe he's having to ask this but of course he is because Billy Hargrove is a fucking moron and psychopath so he would  _ absolutely  _ try to drive when he's completely fucked out of his head. 

The blonde’s eyes travel from the ring of keys clenched in Steve's hand to his face and back again, expression carefully blank like he thinks Steve is asking him a stupid question. "...Y-Yes?" He pulls himself into a wobbly standing position and eyes Steve as the boy drags a hand down his face while giving a long suffering sigh. Then he speaks slowly, like he's talking to a Special Ed kid. "Are you serious right now? You're going to drive drunk as fuck, like, do you even think? Ever?" He sees Hargrove's face shift, watches the downturn of his mouth and the slant of his eyebrows before it slides away and is replaced with his usual smug expression, though the effect is somewhat diminished because the guy can barely stay upright. 

"Aw, you worried about me Harrington? How sweet." 

Steve isn't sure what he dislikes the most about Billy fucking Hargrove. He can't pin down if it's his shitty attitude, all the mocking and peacocking, his stupid California accent, his persistent tan despite the fact that it's  _ winter _ in  _ Indiana,  _ the way he treats his sister, or the fact that Billy nearly killed him in November. Steve honestly can't decide what part about this total piece of sentient garbage is the part he hates most. Maybe it's some combination of all of it that's amassed as some kind of deep seated  _ hatred  _ for the boy in front of him and Steve lets that feeling wash over him until he's nearly drowning in it as he shoves the keys into Hargrove's chest. 

"I _worried_ you'll hurt _someone_ _else_ you asshole. Take the back roads home and maybe we'll all get lucky enough for you to wrap your car around a tree without any collateral damage." 

Steve knows he's probably crossing some kind of line saying something like that, but it feels good. It feels amazing to see something like hurt flicker across the blonde’s face before Steve climbs into his car and takes a deep breath. Thinks about the look on Max's face every time she and Billy argue about something, the fear on the kid's faces that night at Will's house. 

He starts his car and pulls away, not looking back and not feeling sorry about anything. 

* * *

**Monday: Here’s Some Candy and An Olive Branch, Bitch**

He was sitting quietly in math class while scribbling down answers from the cheat sheet in the back of the book when the intercom suddenly came to life.

"Billy Hargrove please report to the front office." 

All the eyes in the room swiveled to him as he stood, plastering on his signature smirk as he sauntered out of the classroom wondering what the fuck he'd done now. 

He walked into the office ready to lay it on thick with Mrs. Davidson when he spotted Max standing awkwardly next to the window. 

What the hell was she doing in the high school office? 

The girl looked awkward and out of place, fidgeting nervously as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and glared a hole in his head. 

Billy was quiet for a beat before he cocked his hip out casually while hooking his thumb in his back pocket and asked innocently

"Something wrong?" The secretary smiled at him and batted her eyelashes in a way she probably thought was coy while pulling her glasses off. "Well, Maxine here isn't feeling well and your father said you would be able to take her home since he's at work." 

Max shifted uncomfortably again while crossing her arms and fixing him with a hard stare as if daring him to say something. 

"Of course Mrs. Davison, I'd be happy to take her home. Come on Maxine." He kept his tone neutral and held his arm out so Max could walk in front of him and out the door and he pretended not to notice the wink that was sent his way. 

As they made their way out into the parking lot Billy shoved his hands in his pockets against the chill and glanced at the redhead, noting the stiff way she was walking and the fact that she still had her jacket tied around her waist despite the frigid wind that was blowing. 

He elbowed her in the shoulder, not gently but not hard enough to actually hurt her. "Those boys do something?" 

She shook her head but stayed silent. They climbed into the Camaro and Billy sped out of the parking lot. "So you gonna tell me what this is about? You don't look sick to me." 

She crossed her arms tighter and her face started turning red again, the color slowly creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks. He leaned on the center console and swatted at her knee. "Maxinnneee, what the hell is your malfunction? Not that I'm complaining about getting out of school but…" He turned onto main street sharply when she still didn't respond, the action sending her into the passenger side door. Smacking her hand against the window and turning sharply towards him Billy let out a loud cackle at the pissed off look on her face.

"Gotta pay attention!" He said, rolling the window down and popping a cigarette in his mouth. With a flick of his wrist the end was lit and he was pulling in a deep breath of smoke, cherry glowing bright red. He briefly considered pressing the hot end of the cheap lighter against Max's hand where it was resting on the divider between the seats. "Hey Max, you want a smiley face?" He asked before putting the lighter end over her hand and pressing down, placing his thumb between her skin and the hot metal at the last minute. It had the same effect though, Max still shrieked like she'd been burned and jerked her hand back, holding it close to her heaving chest. He laughed again but it died in his throat when his eyes met hers, hard ocean blue meeting bright sky grey, and he sucked in a breath as he recognized the look on her face. Mostly because he'd seen it on his own face enough.  _ Fear.  _ He'd actually scared her, like that night on Halloween when he'd almost turned her little friends into road pizza. 

And he'd be damned if he would ever admit feeling anything other than satisfied with her reaction. She deserved to be scared of him again after all the shit she'd done. He was tired of her getting to act like a spoiled little brat, getting whatever she wanted while he had to walk on eggshells around his own house. She should have to feel at least a fraction of the stress and anxiety that followed him around like a dark cloud everywhere he went. 

He opened his mouth to tell her to stop being a baby when all of a sudden she burst into tears. Full on ugly crying complete with stuttering sobs and snot and sniffles. It was sudden enough that he actually flinched when the first strangled cry worked its way out of her mouth and it was such an unexpected reaction he was speechless. Max had  _ never _ cried like this in front of him. The last time she had outright bawled this way was when Susan had broken the news to her that they were leaving California. 

At first Max had thrown a fit, screaming while tears pricked her eyes. When that hadn't worked she started to sob loudly enough that he could hear her in his room at the other end of the house. He hadn't paid her much attention then though, too busy wiping away angry tears of his own. 

The redhead let out a pitiful sounding cough before angrily scrubbing at her face. "S-stop by Melvald's."

He looked over at her in surprise. "Finally talking to me huh?" He tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as his step sister glared at him like her little episode hadn't even happened. Like she didn't still have tears and red patches all over her cheeks. "Quit being an asshole for five minutes! Just fucking stop there ok?" She snapped and Billy blinked. Narrowed his eyes. "The fuck you need from the store, you don't have any money and I'm not about to buy shit for you."

Her expression fell and she looked down at her hands that were twisted in her lap. "I'll just… ask my mom when she gets home…. " She said softy. 

  
  


Billy just looked at her like she'd grown another head. What the hell was with these mood swings, she’d been doing this all weekend….

_ Oh. _

  
  


Billy tossed the spent cigarette out the window before shifting in his seat and gearing himself up for what he was sure was about to be a really awkward conversation. 

"Are you.. Um.. Is this a  _ girl _ thing?" And Max just let out a wobbly sounding huff. "Yeah. It's  _ girl _ stuff. Can you just-" 

He cut her off by throwing the car in park in front of Melvald's and slinging his door open with I gruff "Stay here" before walking into the small store. 

The bell above the door chimed as he walked in and the woman behind the counter smiled at him before going back to whatever it was she was doing. 

Billy walked up and down a few aisles before finding what he was looking for (or what he assumed he needed to look for, this wasn't his area of expertise after all) grabbing a box and turning on his heel towards the counter, stopping to grab a bottle of aspirin and a candy bar as well. He tossed those along with the box of Tampax on the counter and tapped his foot nervously as the thin woman behind the register rang up the items and told him his total. Billy didn't actually look at her until he handed her the $5 he pulled from his wallet but when he did it made him frown. 

_ Wasn't she Byers' mom? Jane or Joy or something? _

She recognized him in the same instance it seemed, taking the bill from his hand and popping open the register she stared him down. "Billy Hargrove, right?" 

He nodded and smiled lightly, brain working quickly to figure out how  _ she  _ knew  _ him. " _ You're the one who broke one of my plates over Steve Harrington's head, aren't you." It wasn't a question, she knew exactly who he was and she didn't look too happy.

"Ah, yes that was me. Unfortunately there was a bit of a misunderstanding between us." He said carefully, watching her expression to try and assess the situation. He was really hoping this wasn't about to become an ordeal. 

She raised her eyebrows as if to say 'are you serious?' as she handed him his change.

"That's a pretty big misunderstanding. You could have killed him."

Of course he could have. He fucking  _ should  _ have. The guy had his (step) sister in some crack house in the middle of nowhere at nearly midnight and  _ lied  _ about it. The whole thing looked sketchy as fuck and Billy really couldn't see how he kept looking like the bad guy here. 

Oh right, because everyone in this town thought the sun shone out of Harrington's ass or something. He was just a little  _ angel _ . Whatever. 

Billy doesn’t even bother with giving a proper response, he just throws a cocky smile her way as he shrugs, grabbing the bag and walking out. 

Max was sitting right where he left her and she raised an eyebrow when he handed her the shopping bag. 

"Here. Not sure if Susan's talked to you about  _ it _ or not but, uh, there's like instructions on the box and shit I think."

Max looked into the bag and Billy watched as her mouth pressed into a thin line. She was quiet for a long time, they were almost back to the house before she finally spoke up. 

"She hasn't.. I.. Thank you Billy." 

He shrugged as they pulled into the driveway and he put the car in park. 

"Yeah yeah, don't say I never did nothing for you. Now we're even for that time you walked in on me jerking off." 

Max's face scrunched up as she shoved her door open and climbed out. "Ew, thanks jackass, I was trying to forget that." 

* * *

  
  


**Friday: Oh No, It’s the 5-0**

The moment Billy's eyes open that morning he immediately knows he's over slept. He's not really sure how he knows but his body does and it sends a surge of anxiety rolling through him that has him jumping out of bed, grabbing blindly at the pile of clean clothes on the floor next to his stereo before Max bangs on his door twice. 

"Yeah yeah, keep your panties on!" He yells as he pulls a faded black Motlëy Crüe shirt on and spares a glance at the alarm clock sitting on his bedside table. 

_ Fuck.  _

He's got 2 minutes before they  _ have _ to be pulling out of the driveway. The last thing he needs is his old man finding out he'd over slept and made them both late.

Shoving his hand into the pile of clothes and grabbing is favorite jeans (because they make his ass look  _ fantastic _ ) he quickly pulls them on and makes an aggravated noise in the back of his throat when they slide down his hips, definitely more loose than they'd been last week. He doesn't have time to do anything about it though as he shoves his books into his backpack and manages to grab a hair tie off his desk before swinging open his door, nearly bowling Max over because she's standing with her fist in the air, poised to knock again. 

"Get in the car shitbird, I'm coming." He says quickly as he grabs his jacket off the back of the couch, patting the pocket for his keys before following Max onto the front porch and pulling his boots on while hopping down the steps. 

She slams the car door behind her as she slumps in the passenger seat, munching on a poptart and getting crumbs everywhere. Billy slings the car into first gear and peels out of the driveway, glancing at her as she shoves her backpack on to the floorboard.

"You gonna share any of that you little hob goblin?" He mutters, though he doesn't really expect her to. Things between them have been a bit more civil since Monday but she still isn't really going out of her way to talk to him. It's a start though, he supposes. 

Max only sneers at him while making a point to chew more violently than strictly necessary. "Fucking gremlin." He says, digging out his cigarettes and lighting one up. Holding it between his teeth and running his fingers through his hair he gathers it into a messy bun before pulling the hair tie off his wrist. 

"Fuck.. Max put it in third." He tells her before pressing down on the clutch. She shoves the last of the poptart into her mouth as she reaches over and slings the car into gear just as they drive past Hopper who hits his siren for a few seconds, warning Billy to slow down without bothering to turn around. 

He feels Max staring at him out of the corner of her eyes and he ashes his cigarette. "Can I help you?" 

Max turns her head to openly look at him and she's got a contemplative look on her face. "I've never seen you with your hair up." She finally says and Billy just rolls his eyes, not sure what to do with that. 

He gets them to school with one minute to spare but doesn't make it to homeroom until just after the first bell rings, earning him a disapproving look from his teacher as he slumps in his desk, surly expression fixed firmly in place. 

Between second and third period he's in a rush to grab his shit from his locker because he can't find the essay that was due that day. As he slides his hand roughly along the bottom of the locker door getting ready to slam it shut in frustration, there’s a soft  _ ptt ptt _ against his sleeve and he looks down to see two spatters of blood soaking into the denim. 

He opens his mouth to let out a surprised  _ huh?  _ and immediately tastes the coppery tang of blood. Reaching up to swipe under his nose Billy scowls when his fingers come away smeared in bright red liquid. The handful of people still in the hallway nearly jump out of their skin at the loud "Fuck!" as he slams his locker shut, shoving his bloody hand into his pocket and wiping the blood off his face with the collar of his jacket. 

Sitting at his desk and throwing his bag under the chair Billy leans back in his seat and pulls his hand out of his pocket to press his red bandanna against his face in an attempt to soak up some of the blood before looking up and raising an eyebrow when he found Harrington staring at him, all big eyes and floppy hair.

Harrington's hollowed out eyes wander over his face and neck before settling on the red streaks across the sleeves of his jacket. The taller boy opens his mouth like he's going to say something but the teacher walks in so he just crosses his arms and turns to the front of the classroom. Which was fine with Billy, he wasn't in the mood to chat, especially to Harrington. 

Thankfully his nose stops bleeding a few minutes later, though his bandanna isn’t going to be the same until it gets a good wash.

He ends up having to talk to Harrington anyway when Billy has to kick the back of his chair a few times when the other boy falls asleep on his desk only 10 minutes after class starts, resulting in Steve swinging around like a man possessed and slapping his hand on Billy's desk. 

"What is your God damn deal Hargrove?!" 

"I can't hear with you fuckin snoring away amigo. Pipe down." 

"Boys!" Señora Vargas says as she strides over to them, hands on her hips. 

"¿Hay algún problema?" 

Harrington just blinks owlishly at her and Billy snorts, kicks his desk again just because. 

"No ma'am." Billy says as Harrington turns the right way around in his desk and Señora Vargas looks between them rather unimpressed, eyes taking in Harrington’s exhausted presence and the smears of dried blood Billy is sure are still all over his face.

"Si no hay ningún problema, me gustaría que ustedes dos permanezcan en silencio."

"¡Él es el que hizo todo ese ruido!" Billy shoots off and Harrington, along with everyone else in the class turns to look at him. 

He sits up straighter in his seat and glares at every one of them. 

"What!?" and 27 sets of eyes snap forward while Señora Vargas walks back to the chalkboard, obviously not in the mood to deal with him today. 

"Todo el mundo, consigue tu tarea." 

Class resumes and Harrington ends up falling asleep again, surprise surprise. The guy looks like he's auditioning for a part in a zombie movie and Billy would hazard a guess the guy hasn't gotten a decent night's rest in weeks. He wonders if it's got anything to do with the concussion Billy had given him. Or was it something to do with whatever the hell was going on that night and that freak Byers' house? It had certainly looked like something out of a goddamn nightmare when Billy had been there. He's thought to try and needle some answers from Maxine but in the same breath he finds himself not caring either way. 

The bell rings and as everyone gathers their things together for lunch and files out of the classroom Billy absently reaches into his back pocket only to feel his heart sink when his wallet isn't there. 

It was at home. 

And Max had taken the last of his spare quarters to use at the fucking arcade yesterday. 

"Fuck my entire goddamn life." He growls as he stomps towards the back exit of the building while trying to ignore his painfully empty stomach growling at him and hoping that if he chainsmoked enough during the break it would hold him over till he got home. Practice was going to be absolute  _ hell _ . He already felt lethargic and distracted so he knew by the time it rolled around he was going to play like complete shit. 

As he sparked his lighter (pointedly not looking at the way his hand shook) he debated on whether or not to go to the parking lot and sleep for the rest of the day. He changed his mind quickly though when he caught sight of himself in the reflection of the door beside him. There was blood streaked all over his jeans and parts of his shirt, he definitely needed to shave and his hair was still mostly tied up, but a few strands had fallen loose to curl around his face. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he'd barely slept despite the fact that he'd definitely been passed out for a solid 7 hours last night. Jesus he couldn’t believe he’d left the house looking like this.

He popped the collar of his jacket up against the wind and ducked his head down, glaring at Byers and Wheeler as they made their way out to the field, probably to suck face under the bleachers or something equally disgusting. 

A small pile of cigarette butts made their home by his feet and by the time the bell rang signaling the end of lunch period he was down to one lonely smoke. His lungs burned and his head swam from the nicotine high as he snuck back inside and headed for science class. 

* * *

He was absolutely 100%, completely, and totally right earlier. He was playing like fucking garbage and coach  _ definitely  _ noticed. The man doesn't give him too much grief over it though since he's still playing better than everyone else on the court and Billy keeps quiet the whole time, focusing on the ball in his hands. 

When practice is over he doesn't even bother really changing, he just pulls his jeans on and shoves his jacket and shorts into his backpack before stalking out to the parking lot to wait for Max. There's still about 15 minutes before AV club lets out so he cranks the Camaro and turns the heat on, leaning back and closing his eyes while he waits. 

He must fall asleep at some point because the next thing he knows, Max is slamming her door shut and looking over him with an odd expression on her face. Her brows are pinched and the corners of her mouth downturned, but she doesn't look mad. 

Billy pushes himself up from where he'd slumped down in the driver's seat and starts to run his fingers through his hair before remembering it's pulled back so he just settles for running a hand down his face. He hears Max shift beside him and when he turns to see if anyone is behind him she's only inches from his face, stupid frown fixed firmly in place. 

He pulls back, surprised he hadn't elbowed her in the face when he'd reached over to brace his hand on her headrest. 

"What do you want you fucking Muppet?"

Her mouth twists and she leans back down in her seat. Is quiet for a moment, then:

"What's your damage?" And it's _so_ _hard_ to not snap at her because she finally said something to him, _but_ fuck her because he feels like shit but she's not allowed to fucking ask questions like that when she doesn't actually give a damn. He just grunts at her and pulls on to the road. 

The only sound in the car comes from the radio blasting Queensryche and the occasional click of Billy's zippo. 

They turn onto Cherry Road and Max reaches over to turn the radio down. 

"Billy." She utters his name like a curse and he looks over towards her as they pull into the driveway while slamming his hand on the steering wheel, imagining it's her head underneath his fist. "What?" He bites out in the same clipped tone and the girl throws her door open and climbs out. "Neil and mom are having date night and I need help with a project." 

She says it slowly, like she'd rather be chewing on glass than ask for his help. 

He considers telling her to fuck off but he knows that if he doesn't help she'll go shooting her mouth off about it to his old man and Billy isn't sure he can handle another beat down this week on top of all the other shit he's got going on. So he bites his tongue and walks up the cracked steps to the door, glancing at her out of his peripherals. "This better not be the part where you tell me you need poster board or some shit." 

Max wrinkles her nose at him and hitches her backpack higher on her shoulder as they walk inside and Billy takes a deep breath. Tries to relax. It quells a bit of his anxiety now that he knows his dad and Susan will be out late tonight, he'll basically have the house to himself. 

Max drops her bag by the coffee table and looks over at him. "No, it's just an essay but…" 

Her sentence tapers off as he drops his own bag next to the door and leans against the wall, closes his eyes. He feels dizzy, tired now that he's not keyed up and on edge. It's harder to ignore the shadows at the corners of his vision when he's like this, exhausted and stretched too thin. 

"But?" 

He hears the kid shift around and opens his eyes when she clears her throat. 

"But I'm shit at writing essays and you're not. So. I need your help."

Billy snorts and pushes himself off the wall to wander over to the couch, flopping face down on it and closing his eyes. 

"Alright get on with it."

She starts pulling her books out and stacking them on the table while he flips on the TV for some background noise. He clicks through a few channels before settling on watching  _ Caddyshack _ . 

Max opens one of her books and starts reading, occasionally highlighting something or other and Billy closes his eyes while answering a question every so often. 

It turns out when Max said she needed help, she really meant she couldn't organize her thoughts to save her life. She's got a shit load of useful information and a lot of good points but when she puts them all together it's just not cohesive. None of her ideas really flow together properly, and listening to her read the first paragraph of it is like listening to a stream of conscious thought put on paper. 

So Billy tells her to cut it down and simplify it. Tells her to pick three major points and tie them together between an introductory and concluding paragraph. Tells her to stop whining when she complains that she's got more than three major points to make. Pouts when he tells her to do what she wants and see if it gets her another C+. 

He actually falls asleep after that and when he wakes up its to Max looming over him and shaking his arm,  _ Twilight Zone  _ playing on the TV behind her. 

"Billy, it's almost 7 o'clock." She says in that voice she'd used in the car. Like she's annoyed but not really. 

"Fuck, seriously?" He says, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. The whole world tilts around him and he leans forward and groans quietly. 

He feels like he might puke and apparently looks like it too because Max takes a step back. She looks like she wants to say something and it takes her a moment to finally settle on it. 

"You've been acting weird the past few days. What's going on?" He only huffs in response because what the hell is he going to tell her? Like she'd even give a shit. 

He rolls the thought around in his head of telling her that his old man is just stressing him out (everything is stressing him out) but doesn't want to deal with the eye rolls or the stupid questions she'll probably ask so he just settles on "I'm fine." and pushes himself off the couch. 

Max rocks her weight from foot to foot as he walks past her and towards the kitchen. He doesn't even make it to the fridge before he hears her footsteps behind him and he grinds his teeth because he knows exactly what's coming. 

"Can you take me to the diner?" 

Yep, right on schedule. 

He rounds on her, glaring when she puts her hands on her hips and glares right back. 

"No." 

"Billy, it's  _ important."  _

"The hell it is! You can hang out with your loser friends tomorrow, I ain't got money for the damn diner and neither do you!" 

Billy turns and walks past her, heading for the bathroom to take a shower and get away from Max, wanting to put a stop to the whole conversation before she could twist his arm like she always did. 

Max follows him, sticking her shoe between the door and frame when he tries to slam it in her face. 

"Billy I'm serious! It's super important! I  _ have  _ to go! I swear it will only be, like, an hour tops!" 

He rips his shirt off and throws it in her face, hoping that the idea of him stripping will be enough to deter her. It's not. 

Her eyes flick down to the yellowed bruise he's got over his ribs and side and he resists the urge to turn away from her. 

"  _ Billy.  _ Take me, or I'll skate there and tell mom and Neil you made me go all alone."

He reaches out to grab at her arm but she slips into the hallway, bathroom door half open between them. 

"You're  _ such a bitch Maxine!"  _ Billy yells as he wrenches the door the rest of the way open and shoves past her to walk into his room. 

"I'm going to take you to the fucking diner and you and your stupid friends have 30 minutes to do whatever the fuck you do before I leave and you  _ do _ have to skate home!" He's nearly screaming at her as he shuffles around his room, grabbing a black jacket and pulling it on angrily. Max watches him from the doorway looking smug as she can fucking be. And like she can't already tell he's pissed enough, like she hasn't learned to read his moods even a little in the past 4 years (or maybe she has and is deciding to be a shitheel just because she can) she crosses her arms and scoffs.

"Is that Ryan's hoodie? Did-" 

She doesn't get to finish her sentence when Billy rounds on her, stalking over and crowding her against the wall next to his door, eyes narrowed in fury and she shrieks when he slams his hand against the wall next to her head. 

"SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH MAXINE!" 

Her eyes are wide and she looks livid, placing her small hands on his chest and shoving as hard as she can. It doesn't do much, he's so much bigger than her, but he puts his hand down and pushes her down the hallway towards the door. 

" WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SUCH A JACKASS?!" She screams before stomping out onto the porch, leaving the door wide open. 

Billy kicks the box spring his mattress is sitting on before taking a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down. Tries to ignore the tears that form just _hearing_ Ryan's name because he's not some _goddamn_ _pussy_. Reminds himself he's just got 5 months left in this hellhole before he can go back to California, back to his friends. Back _home. _

_ "Come on B!" Ryan yells as Billy races up the pier, new converse slapping the wooden boards as he runs. The black haired boy laughs as he watches his best friend, bracing himself as the blonde crashes into him, throwing an arm around Ryan's shoulders and nearly toppling them both over. Ryan's arms come to rest on Billy's waist and he takes a step back to keep from falling. "Where's the fire kid?" He asks when Billy pulls away from him, flashing that thousand watt smile that never quite seems to reach his eyes any more. "You promised me we would go to the record store! Van Halen' s new album is out and we gotta get it for that party at Shay's."  _

_ Ryan throws his hands up in mock exasperation before placing his hand on Billy's lower back and nudging him gently forward. "Is that all I'm good for? Rides to the record store?" _

_ Billy pushes his aviators up and grasps at the sleeve of the older boy's shirt. Ryan runs his fingers over the skin of Billy's wrist before pulling his hand back and sticking his tongue out playfully.  _

_ "Well, a promise is a promise. Let's get you that album, Blue Jay."  _

A few tears of frustration slide down his cheeks before he angrily wipes them away. That had been the last day he and Ryan had been able to spend together before Billy had found out about the move. 

Ryan had promised him before he left that if Billy stuck it out and got his diploma and came back to California he and Ryan would get a place in Riverside. 

He'd promised Billy they would have a nice little apartment with shitty furniture and they'd take care of Ryan's stupid fucking cat.

And maybe after a while they would stop tip toeing around each other's feelings. Billy would finally tell Ryan how he felt and Ryan would tell him the same thing and they would be  _ happy;  _ he wouldn't be the loser in love with his best friend. 

It was some pretty gay shit both literally and figuratively, but for Billy it was the light at the end of a tunnel. A way to get away from his father for good and be who he wanted to be. 

* * *

Hopper isn't sure what bothers him more, the fact that Jane can sense everything going on with the Upside Down or the fact that he can't protect her from it. He doesn't like to admit it much, likes to keep up his reputation as a hardass but it he worries about El. A lot.

Not because of what she is, Hopper knows better than most that she's a tough little thing and could absolutely get by without any of the Party. She's strong and so very intelligent that it's almost unreal ( just like everything else in his life lately). 

He worries because of what's happened to her already, how she's been hurt so much for someone so young and how it's so fucked up. How she'll never really get to be a normal kid, without all the trauma and fear and anger. Those emotions were so intense and integral during so much of her childhood development that Hopper knows she'll never be able to fully reign it in all the time. He worries about the consequences of that because he knows it would kill her if someone accidentally got hurt because of her. 

Which might be why he is silently flipping his shit when she tells him she's getting a bad feeling about the Upside Down again. Tells him that they need to meet with the others to ask if they've noticed anything strange going on lately. 

They're at the Benny's diner on the edge of town and Herrington is sitting next to him, Dustin and Lucas are sitting across from them talking animatedly to El. Mike and Will are standing next to the table flipping through a beat up looking composition book and interjecting every so often. 

Hopper rubs his eyes tiredly and orders another cup of coffee when the waitress walks by. 

"Long day?" Steve asks as he sips his own cup quietly while leaning on the table. The kid looks as tired as he feels, though that seems to have become his M. O. according to Dustin. Dark circles ring a pair of bloodshot brown eyes and Jim glances down briefly to watch his hands twitch harshly when there's a clack of silverware from the kitchen. 

"Everyday is a long day." He says after a minute, ears picking up the sound of an engine pulling up. "Max is here!" Lucas nearly yells, pressing his face against the glass window over Dustin's shoulder. 

The curly haired boy bats at him, pushing the taller boy back into his seat. "Shit, take a breather love bird!" 

The bell above the door rings and the squeak of shoes on linoleum is all he hears before there's a head of firey red hair shoving between Mike and Will as Max sandwiches herself between Lucas and El. 

"Max!" The girl says excitedly as she smiles brightly. A warm feeling spreads in Jim's chest as he watches the way his daughter lights up around the Party, how their presence puts her at ease.

Dustin glares over Hopper's head and smacks his little hand on the table, drawing everyone's attention. "What's  _ he _ doing here?" 

Jim turns his head in tandem with the others to see Billy Hargrove standing behind them with his hands shoved deep into his pockets and shoulders hunched, looking particularly annoyed. The guy looks like he's just rolled out of bed. Long blonde hair in disarray, clothes wrinkled and eyes half lidded like he might fall asleep standing up. 

"Shut up you little shit stain, I'm not here by choice." He growls and Jim straightens in his seat glancing at El "Jane, fill them in, I'll handle this." before sliding out of the booth and standing up to his full height in front of Hargrove. 

He sees the kid's shoulders tense up but he only tilts his head up to look Hopper in the eye. "Why don't you and I have a chat?" Jim says, placing his coffee on an adjacent booth and nodding for the boy to sit. He gets a tired look of annoyance from the blonde before he sits in the booth across from the chief, hands still shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. He's shivering too, Jim notices despite the warmth of the little diner. 

"Cold?" He asks, pulling a crushed pack of Camels from his shirt pocket and lighting one swiftly, hazy smoke filling the air between them. The kid just snorts and leans back in his seat, suddenly more relaxed, like he's sized Hopper up and decided he wasn't a threat. He pulls out his own pack of smokes and shoves one between his teeth. "Yeah. Freezing my balls off in this hellhole." He mutters after a moment, smoke curling lazily from his mouth and the end of his cigarette. 

They smoke in silence and Jim listens to the kids bicker among each other with a strained ear while taking in the boy in front of him with a critical eye, his inner policeman filing away details for later use. 

Under the yellowed lights of the diner Hargrove looks washed out (despite how tan he still is, like he's got that California sun trapped under his skin). There are shadows beneath his eyes, not as bad as Harrington's, but they're definitely there. Coupled with his messy hair and five o'clock shadow it makes him seem older than Jim knows he is. Harsher. 

His eyes drift down to the hunched shoulders under the thin jacket, how much smaller he seems slumped in the booth like this in just a jacket and jeans. He knows better though, the slim frame is deceiving, Jim's heard Hargrove is nothing but solid muscle underneath those layers. 

Billy puts his cigarette out in the ashtray between them and Jim watches as his unbelievably blue eyes drift around the small room, almost boredly.

_ Or like he can't properly focus on anything. _

* * *

Billy grinds his teeth as he and Hopper have their stare down. He can tell the man is getting agitated with him by the set of his shoulders and the way he chews on the filter of his cigarette. Which is interesting because he hasn't actually done anything to piss him off yet, he doesn't think. 

After a moments debate he reaches over and takes the man's coffee; he hasn't touched it and Billy still feels tired after his little nap earlier.( He hates sleeping during the day because he always feels sluggish and distracted for the rest of the day.) 

Not to mention his stomach is so empty it _fucking_ _hurts, _so he might as well kill two birds with one stone he thinks to himself, taking a sip of his stolen drink and grimacing at how bitter it is. Jenny ,the waitress, is a cute girl and a decent fuck but she burns the coffee every time. 

"You've got some balls on you huh."Hopper mutters, more to himself than anything as his eyes track Billy's movements. Watches as he puts a pinch of salt in the coffee before taking another sip, shrugging like they're old friends,

"Didn't look like you were about to drink it any time soon. Not that I blame you, tastes like shit." Hopper snorts, blowing smoke out of his nose and rubbing a hand over his eyes. He looks tired, Billy thinks, not like Harrington with his dark eyes and thousand yard stare, but in the lines of his face, the slant of his eyebrows. His uniform is wrinkled and askew, dirt and dust on the sleeves and cuffs. 

_ Like he’s been digging around in the dirt. _

Billy sips his stolen coffee quietly, subtly watching the gaggle of nerds at the next table. They’re all talking over each other animatedly and Harrington can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. The girl in the middle, next to Max looks strange. Like she’s there but not there (is she?) at the same time, speaking softly every so often. He can’t hear well enough to decipher what they’re actually talking about, too many years spent standing next to amps at underground shows and parties (and probably a few too many hits to the side of the head) have fucked up his hearing on the left side. The few words he does make out sound like gibberish anyway. 

He sees the chunky one -Dustin?- pull something out of a backpack he’s got shoved under the table, knocking Harrington’s coffee cup over in the process of slamming a book down on the table. Billy watches out of the corner of his eye as the book lifts itself off the table and the cup right itself without anyone touching it.

_ Fucking hell, not now. _

The blonde thinks as he jerks his eyes back to his own cup and Hopper shifts in his seat, clearing his throat. “I think we’re done here. Kids, pack it up.” The man says while standing from his seat. There is an utterance of protest from all of the gremlins, but Hopper’s tone leaves no room for arguments.

Billy stands from his own seat and glares at all of them before turning on his heel and walking outside, not bothering to wait for Max to catch up.


	2. The Calm Before the Strom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy is having a bad time, and it's only going to get worse. Max isn't helping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains abuse, not super graphic but yeah. Abuse isn't always physical, it's also psychological and I tried to illustrate that here as best I could. Also implications of underage sex between Billy and OMC. This chapter is a bit shorter but the next one will be where the story really starts. Harringrove is endgame btw, the Billy/Hopper tag is going to be present but...complicated. Anyways, enjoy and leave comments, tell me what you think, critique it, tell me you fucking hate it, idc.  
Follow me on Twitter @bag_ex for updates on all my shit and I'm somewhere on tumblr as exteenagedirtbag as well. Lots of good shit on there.   
This was not spell checked lol so ill go ahead and apologize for any grammatical errors.

**Spread Your Ashes On My Skin**

He nearly bolts from the stuffy diner, cold night air blowing across his overheated skin as though the frozen darkness can sense his uneasiness. A cigarette is lit and smoldering away between his fingers before he even makes it to his car, smoke drifting lazily into the air until it dissipates into the night sky but the nicotine does nothing to slow the rapid pace of his heart or the subtle shake of his hands. 

He needs to calm down, knows that working himself up will only make it worse and  _ Christ _ he's got to drive home now; he's got Max with him and as much of a shitheel as she is he'd  _ actually _ feel bad if he had a wreck with her in the car because he was too busy being a  _ wuss _ about seeing shit he  _ knew  _ wasn't there. 

_ Quit acting like a basketcase! _

Faintly he can hear Max inside, telling the fucking nerd herd goodbye before she stomps out. The crunch of her dirty green Vans on the gravel walkway snaps him partway out of the haze of panic he's wading in. He makes sure to keep his face relaxed even though he knows she sees his white knuckle grip on the door handle when she walks past him. 

A featureless shape ghosts along the tree line, just out of his line of direct sight and Billy closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath and counts to five. 

When he opens his eyes again there's no black amorphous blob lingering near the trees, no shadowy figure creeping around the fallen branches and leaves. It's just him and Max, standing out in the cold Indiana air. 

"Billy! Crank the car, it's  _ cold." _

The blonde wrenches his door open and drops heavily into the driver's seat. He barely has time to get the keys into the ignition before Max is turning the dial to maximum heat and shoving her little hands under her jean clad thighs to try and keep them warm. Billy tears out of the parking lot, kicking up gravel and dust as they pull onto the main roadway. 

"Who was that little mousy lookin' kid? Ain't seen her before." Billy asks. He's trying to distract himself from the festering panic he can feel sifting just under his skin, threatening to swallow him whole and spit out the chewed flesh and bone in a pile of rotting goo. 

It's been a long time since he's had a hallucination that vivid, years even. Normally he just sees shadows and nondescript figures loitering around the edges of his vision, nothing he ever gets a good look at -other than whatever that shit was in the Byers fridge-, nothing like  _ that _ , shit moving by itself. 

It can't be stress, or at least he doesn't  _ think  _ it is. The past few weeks have been relatively tame in comparison to when they'd first arrived; back when Billy had felt like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown up until just before Christmas.

The move had been a nightmare, following his dad's beat to shit truck and the Uhaul across almost 2,000 miles of jackshit nothingness (after they'd passed through Las Vegas), running on nothing but watered down coffee and gas station pizza -maybe a bit of blow he had stashed away for emergencies- had Billy almost in tears by the time they'd arrived at the faded sign welcoming them to Hawkins two and a half days later. 

From there it had been hauling shit into the house until nearly midnight when he had to be up for school the next morning, early, so he could get his schedule and finish sorting out all of the transfer paperwork, basketball practice, getting information on the major players around town, where the parties were at, where he could by alcohol with no questions asked. Squaring up with Harrington both on and off the court, making his rounds through the pitiful selection of girls Hawkins had to offer, homework, watching Max, helping his old man fix things around the house,  _ his old man,  _ playing nice with Susan, chores chores chores. The list was never ending it seemed.

The tail end of 1984 had put him through the ringer for sure but aside from  _ that _ night, Billy hadn’t actually been seeing  _ things _ as much. So what the hell had just happened?

“ _ Billy. _ Are you even listening? Jeez, you’ve been a space case all day. Are you stoned?” Max snapped, breaking him out of his thoughts, just in time for him to not miss the turn onto Cherry Road. Billy just snorted at her and cut the heat off. “Yeah yeah she’s the chief’s long lost kid or whatever. And no, I’m not stoned, unfortunately.” She matched his eye roll with one of her own before they parked in front of the house and he cut his car off, body going slack when he sees his dad's car is still gone. Small mercies. 

They get out and Max bolts inside, whining about how cold it is and Billy doesn't say anything but he definitely agrees, it's colder than a witche’s tit out here and it just makes him hate this place even more. 

His teeth are chattering by the time he closes the front door behind him and he still feels a bit jittery from earlier; he blames that on the cold too when Max asks why his hands are shaking. She gives him a skeptical look then spins on her heel and struts into the living room. 

Billy glances at the clock on the mantle, the small hands indicating that it's nearly 9 o'clock. 

"Oh shit, do I need to feed you?" He mutters mostly to himself but just loud enough for Max to hear, brain suddenly coming back online as he remembers he's actually supposed to be looking after her. 

Max perks up from her sprawl on the couch and nods aggressively. "Duh! Can you make pancakes?" Billy makes a face at her but doesn't have the energy to give her shit about wanting breakfast at 9 p.m. so he just toes his boots off and shuffles into the kitchen to hunt down a box of pancake mix. 

Max sits at the table as he's reaching up to grab a box from the shelf, his -Ryan's- hoodie riding up with the moment and exposing the bruised skin on his lower back. He can feel Max's eyes on him, staring a hole into the back of his head. 

"What?" He snaps, putting the box down and tugging the jacket back down a bit more aggressively than necessary. 

He hates it when she does that, looks directly at the remnants of whatever Neil's had to do to him like she doesn't  _ know _ . Max is a fucking idiot but she's not  _ stupid _ . He knows she can hear them arguing sometimes when Susan isn't able to drag her out of the house. She never says anything about the bruises or cuts, black eyes or sprained wrists; she just gazes at him like he's some spectacle - _ a car crash on the side of the road-, _ like she's waiting for the day when he finally just drops dead on the floor. 

He's not even sure how he'd respond if she did ask about it, honestly. It's not as though there's anything to really  _ tell.  _ Billy is just a fuck up and his old man is trying his best to help him sort himself out. Trying to make him less of a total piece of shit. 

_ He's just a bit heavy handed _ . 

Besides, Billy isn't some pussy, he can take whatever his old man dishes out. Billy's tough and  _ mean.  _

just not tough  _ enough,  _

not mean  _ enough, _

_ not good enough _

** _But we'll fix that, won't we son?_ ** _ _

His father's voice floats around in his brain like a poisonous fog, clouding his consciousness with a thick wave of anger _ because fuck _ he's trying so  _ hard _ to not be a complete screw up, but everyday feels like one tentative step forward and five stumbling steps back. It feels like it's  _ never going to end _ , July seems ages away and he's not going to  _ make  _ it, he's going to end up stuck in Shitville, Indiana for the rest of his life, he's never going to see California again, never going to see  _ Ryan  _ again, Neil is going to  _ kill him he's going to  _ ** _die_ ** _ in this miserable fucking house and no one is going to know _ ** _ -no one is going to care-_ **

"Billy!" Max's voice pierces through the cachonopy of his thoughts and he wants to tell her to shut the fuck up but when he opens his mouth no sound comes out, it feels like he's choking, he can't get any  _ air _ . He feels her hands, small and  _ cold, so goddamn cold _ gripping his wrist, her blunt nails digging into the soft skin. He sees her in front of him, a blur of red hair and orange freckles and wonders how the hell he's eye level with her. 

After a few seconds he realizes it's because he's slumped down against the cabinets and she's kneeling in front of him, eyes all bugged out and mouth gaping open in fright. "Billy, breathe. You're freaking me out." She says somewhat calmly. There's a waver in her voice that he doesn't hear often because Max is a bitch but she's tough as nails, has to be, living with a mean sonofabitch like Billy. 

It takes him a minute but his throat loses that tight feeling and he can breathe better and he doesn't feel like his brain has been put in a shaker bottle. He's still shaking like a fucking Parkinsons patient though, which sucks. Max sits back on her heels and lets go of his wrist when he finally croaks out a half-hearted "I'm fine." 

"You just had a panic attack." 

"Lay off shitbird, today was…fuck.  _ Fuck. _ " 

He really just wants this day to be over. Billy thinks as he rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger, pinches the bridge of his nose. 

He just wants to go to sleep and not have to wake up. 

He feels tears prick his eyes at the thought and closes them quickly even though Max isn't even near him now, busying herself with making a bowl of cereal. 

He feels weird thinking about it sometimes. All the time. He thinks about it a lot. Killing himself. He's not actively suicidal, isn't planning on going out of his way to do it. There's no grand plan to off himself, no pills and whiskey, no stealing Neil's .38 special and painting the living room walls with his brain matter.  _ Mostly _ because he doesn't want to give his old man the satisfaction

-_You're just like your mother, all fucked up in the head, are you gonna kill yourself too? just like her? Take the cowards way out? Answer me boy! - _and partially because there is still some small part of him, some tiny flickering flame of hope left that tells him he just has to _wait,_ _things will get better, just _**_wait. _**

So he still smokes like a chimney, drinks like a champ, takes whatever drugs are offered, drives too fast, starts shit with his dad and fucks any girl that says yes. 

He does all kinds of stupid shit in the hopes that  _ maybe  _ it will just  _ happen,  _ so that he doesn't have to feel guilty about taking the easy way out, about being a fucking  _ coward  _ and not facing the world like a man and sucking it up and dealing with it. 

_ I'm too tired for this _ . 

He thinks wearily as he stretches his legs out in front of him and shifts when he realizes his ass is numb from sitting on the tacky linoleum for too long. 

Max reappears in front of him with a bowl in her outstretched hand. He blinks in confusion as she huffs and sits in front of him again, still holding the bowl. 

"Take it, you weirdo."

And he does because they have a tenuous truce going on and he's not in the mood to argue for once in his life. 

"Thanks nerd." 

The girl looks up at him and smirks around a mouth full of Froot Loops. 

"Don't say I never did nothing for you." 

That has Billy laughing quietly before shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and for a moment lets himself believe maybe Maxine Mayfield isn't so bad. 

Just for a moment

Then the next morning all hell breaks loose and Billy immediately changes his mind; Max is for shit. 

* * *

**Kill Me Slow, So I Won’t Know**

_ He returns to consciousness slowly, painfully, senses working double time to try and figure out where he is.  _

_ His memory comes back in fits and starts. Getting ready for his date, Susan's annoying voice,  _ ** _respect and responsibility_ ** _ , Harrington, blood, a sharp pain in his neck.  _

_ A bat full of nails.  _

_ His mouth feels tacky with iron and there's a lingering taste of something distinctly chemical. _

_ It makes him sick.  _

_ He eventually shoves himself up into a standing position, the darkened room pinwheeling around him.  _

_ Opens the fridge -needs to get the taste of drugs, blood, and bile out of his mouth- and something large and alien looking falls out. It's wrapped in a blanket.  _

_ He's losing his goddamn mind.  _

A door slams. 

Billy wakes up sweating, heart hammering away in his chest and eyes darting around the shadowed corners of his cramped room like he’s expecting to still be trapped in that madhouse in the woods. He’ll look down and see Harrington’s blood crusted over his busted knuckles and Max standing over him, threatening to knock his nuts off. 

All he sees is a cluttered room with nothing out of the ordinary, clothes are still strewn all over, empty beer cans dotted around the few open spaces and his ash tray that needs emptying. Everything is fine. He's fine. 

The blonde rolls onto his stomach, smooshes his face into the pillow underneath him and tries to relax. The fabric smells like cheap detergent and Aqua Net.

A little like sweat.

He needs to do laundry. 

The enticing tendrils of sleep curl around his mind as he lays there, trying to drag him back into the recesses of unconsciousness like an undertow. He's just starting to drift back off to when Susan starts banging around the kitchen 7 a.m. sharp and he groans, pulls his pillow over his head to try and block out some of the noise. It doesn't do shit but make his face hot so he throws the pillow into the wall and sighs. Resigns himself to actually getting out of bed even though he wants nothing more than to go back to sleep. He can't though because he's actually got homework to do and a date tonight. 

He closes his eyes again. 

Thinks about the last  _ real  _ date he went on.

The thought of Ryan's flushed face flashes in his mind and Billy nearly lets out a whimper when his cock twitches, trapped between his body and the mattress. 

_ No no no.  _

He's not supposed to be like this. It's wrong.  _ He's wrong.  _ He's supposed to be thinking of girls, with their soft curves and wide eyes, full hips and round breasts. The breathless squeals and soft moans they made when he fucked them. 

He's supposed to want to lay them down and have them soft and pliant beneath him. 

He's not supposed to want hard kisses and rough fingers brushing over his sides, his hips. The scratch of stubble on his skin as he's getting sucked off.

His cock twitches again and his hips jerk, trying to press harder into the mattress. 

He's not supposed to want broad shoulders and strong hands holding him down, pressing against him,  _ into him.  _

_ Fuck.  _

_ "Ryan..!" Billy bites out, head tilted back in pleasure and pain as the man nips softly at his throat, distracting him slightly from the two fingers Ryan has buried inside him, working him open. _

Billy's hand slowly slides down the bed, working itself underneath him to grab at his cock. Strokes his thumb over the head and smears precum onto the sheets and his stomach. 

_ "So good like this." Ryan pants out as he eases his way in, until his entire length is buried inside the blonde, until he’s got Billy writhing around under him, breaths coming out in raspy puffs as he reaches up to run his hand through Ryan's soft hair. "Fuck me.."  _

Rolling onto his back and pulling his shorts down just enough to free his aching erection, Billy strokes himself roughly, imagining Ryan's hands on him, in him. Bites at his lip to keep quiet. 

It’s a rare event when he takes the time to jerk off in his room when anyone is there, since they’d started living with Max and Susan Billy mostly kept to quick, sloppy sessions in the shower or hurried jobs when he was alone in the house. He didn’t particularly enjoy it but it there isn’t much else he could do when the only person in the house that seemed to know how to knock was Susan. But apparently today was a special case, because he can hear people moving about in the house and he’s not even truly trying to keep quiet (something else he hates, Billy is a loud person by nature and it bleeds into  _ everything _ he does). He supposes he deserves it, to let loose a little, to release some tension; he’s been wound so tight the past few weeks he feels like his bones are going to break beneath the regidity of his own muscles.

_ Ryan's thrusts start getting faster and faster, Billy opens his eyes as he feels himself tense, heat pooling in his stomach and when looks up he sees Steve Harrington's face above him, all soft eyes and beautiful brown hair- _

Billy moans as he cums, one hand gripped tightly around his pulsing length, the other tangled in his blonde hair. He works himself through his orgasm, breaths loud in the quiet of his empty room, not really caring so much that he’d only taken less than a few minutes to cum but more so that he’d thought about Harrington,  _ again. _

He lays there for a moment as he comes down, heartbeat slowing to a steady pace. He wipes his jizz covered hand on the sheets -he's about to do laundry anyway so it's not like it matters- before pushing himself out of bed, pulls the sheets off the bed and tosses them in a ball in the corner of the room.

Having fantasies about someone he’d nearly killed a few months ago leaves a weird taste in Billy’s mouth and he’s not sure he wants to really consider why he keeps getting off on the thought if Harrington fucking him. The fact that it’s not the first, second, or even  _ third _ time is the problematic bit; he can’t excuse it as a one off, a passing fantasy, a coincidence. However, he isn’t consciously making an effort to think about the other boy while he does it, his brain always just kind of supplies that familiar face at some point or another and, well- 

It had an effect.

“Fuckin’ queer.”

He grabs his pack of Red's off the night table as he goes past it, lights one before opening his door and walking into the hallway towards the bathroom. When he gets to the doorway Max is standing in front of the mirror fucking with her unruly hair and looking comically pissed off. 

"The fuck are you doing?" He asks boredly, puffing on his smoke and raising an eyebrow at her. Max's mouth presses into a thin line and her eyes catch his in the reflection of the mirror. "They told me I need to look more like a  _ girl." _ She spits, yanking a hair tie from her red tresses with such ferocity it makes him wince. 

It's then that Billy actually looks at what she's wearing and it's…. Not Max. Mad Max wears baggy jeans and her shitty green Vans with some stupid sweater or t-shirt. This Max,  _ Maxine _ , is wearing a striped tank top, tucked into a pair of corduroy pants and little ballet flats. He can tell she's uncomfortable by the way her hands keep reaching to pull down jacket sleeves that aren't there and how she's pulling her hair over her shoulders. He leans over her to ash his cigarette in the sink and lowers his voice. " _ They _ did or my dad did?" The girl looks at him out of the corner of her eye stonily. "Neil did." and Billy sighs because yeah, he knew. Max's mom didn't really give much of a shit what Max dressed like most of the time but Neil had  _ expectations _ for his kids. 

_ Cut that hair, you look like a queer.  _

_ What the hell are you wearing?  _

_ I should rip that earring out right here and now.  _

_ I don't want people thinking I raised some faggot, go change  _ ** _now. _ **

Billy had been hearing it for years, since his hair had started getting long and his Ma had refused to make him cut it (by the time she'd died it had been well past his shoulder blades and as a last  _ fuck you _ to her Neil had made him cut it right before the funeral). 

It sucks. Billy has learned to tune it out for the most part; he knows he looks good, he's got a hot body and a pretty face. He likes to dress nice and have his hair look perfect. Likes to draw attention because  _ he will _ . He always does no matter where he goes; the girls want to nail him and the guys want to be him and Billy lives for that shit, lapping up the attention like a dog in the desert. He was fucking made for it. 

But Max isn't like that, she's still young and awkward Billy doesn't want her to have to put up with Neil's shit because even though Max deserves a lot of shit having to grow up thinking the way she  _ looksthinksfeels  _ is wrong isn’t one of them. 

Cutting on the shower and taking one last drag on his cigarette he elbows her towards the door. "Quit messing with your hair, it's gonna look stupid anyway." 

"Fuck you!" She throws a hair brush at him and they hear Susan yell downstairs. 

"Maxine! Language!" 

The little shitbird flips him off before storming out in a huff and Billy just laughs before stripping off his boxers and getting in the shower. 

He’d like to stand under the spray for a while but he can already feel the water starting to cool, slowly ebbing from scalding hot to luke warm so he resigns himself to quickly scrubbing off and climbing out, not really bothering to dry himself before walking back into his room, slamming the door behind him and ignoring his father's shout of "Watch it!" 

The towel ends up in the pile of 'not clean but not dirty enough to need a wash' clothes next to his hamper the blonde runs his fingers through his hair as he opens the old closet door to look appraisingly at it’s contents.

His date isn't until late tonight so he doesn't have to get ready for a while, he decides to forgo a shirt for the time being. Glancing around for a pair of pants proved pointless because as he moved to pull open the middle drawer of his dresser he remembered that pretty much all of his jeans and shorts were dirty. 

"Fuck me." He muttered to himself, shoving aside a faded Metallica shirt as he tried to find the one pair of sweatpants he owned. He grabbed at the small bit of dark fabric wedged into the corner of the wooden drawer, mouth forming into a frown when he felt denim under his fingers. As he pulled the offending material out he let out a surprised snort. It was a pair of dark wash jeans that had been his favorite  _ years _ ago, the material ripped and distressed around the hems, holes at the knees and the left thigh. He remembered wearing them around school in San Diego with his beat to shit Chucks and a sleeveless AC/DC shirt, probably looking like the antithesis of the All American Boy. 

He honestly thought he'd thrown them away when they'd moved.

He held them up and rubbed his fingers over the soft denim, contemplative.

_ Fuck it.  _

He pulls them on, having to shimmy a bit to get them over his ass and is surprised to find that they actually fit him. Turning to look at himself in the makeshift vanity he'd set up next to his stereo Billy can't help but make faces at himself, tongue darting out to run across his teeth before he traps it between his canines as he smirks because  _ fuck  _ does he look  _ good.  _

The jeans rest a little lower on his hips than most of his others but they're just as tight, showing off his magnificent ass and hugging his thighs perfectly. He winks at himself as he angles his body a bit more to the side, taking in his profile in the dim light from his partly covered window. 

He hums a bit when he realizes that he looks different but he’s not sure why. He lets his eyes linger on the reflection in the mirror, frowning. He’s a bit less tan and his hair has grown a bit more but there’s something he can’t really put his finger on. It's kind of been floating in the back of his mind for a few days, barely more than a passing thought. He shrugs as he decides he doesn't really care anymore, unable to find anything that was a cause for concern.

As long as he looked good, who gave a shit? 

As he made his way out of his room he spotted Max's beat up Vans sitting just outside her room, like she'd gotten angry and thrown them off. Tapping his fingers against the door jam for a moment he grabbed his backpack and tossed the scuffed shoes in with his books before settling it by the front door. 

It’s somewhat of a gamble that Neil won’t ask why the hell Billy is taking his backpack to drop Max off with her friends or that he might see her at some point, sporting her stupid skate shoes and whatever jacket Billy has laying around the car for her to throw on over the stupid outfits they’re going to start making her wear, but…

Well, Billy had never gotten caught sneaking around with and fucking a 27 year old California crust punk, so if he can keep Ryan a secret from his old man he’s pretty sure he can handle hiding spare clothes in his car to let Max parade around in what  _ she _ wants to wear.

When he walked into the kitchen Billy was less than thrilled to see his dad sitting at the table with his morning coffee and flipping through the sports section of the newspaper. Neil didn't even glance up at him when he walked in so Billy took that as a good sign. 

The last few days had been somewhat civil between them, Billy had stayed out of Neil’s way and Neil had left him the hell alone for the most part, other than the odd comment about grades or his appearance at random times.

Busying himself with making his own cup of coffee, Billy keeps his head canted slightly to the right so he can hear every move his old man makes. It’s something his dad likes to do sometimes just to fuck with him; he’ll sneak up behind Billy and grab him by the shoulders, fingers always digging into the tense flesh just a bit too roughly to ever be comfortable. And it scares the shit out of him every time; his dad will just laugh as he watches his son jump at the contact. 

For a moment the rustling of paper is all Billy hears as he sips at his coffee. 

And then:

"Billy." The papers crinkle and crunch as Neil folds them up and lays the paper on the table, picking up his own mug as his son turns to face him. Billy’s pulse is thrumming in his veins, he wonders if his dad can see the vein in his neck pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

"Yeah dad?" He asks casually, brain already shuffling through the past 24 hours to try and figure out if he'd done anything to set Neil off. 

"Was there any particular reason why you felt the need to leave dirty dishes in the sink for Susan to have to clean this morning?" 

And Billy's brain lags for a moment, trying to figure out what his dad is talking about. He hadn’t eaten anything in the kitchen since Thursday morning, having skipped out on dinner that night to go to a party, woke up late yesterday, rushed to school, Max gnawing on a poptart in his car…

His brows come together as he thinks, trying to pull the missing pieces from from whatever black hole his brain had dumped them in. Last night. What was last night? He remembers taking Max to the diner, having a staring contest with Hopper, the ridges of the cabinet handle digging into his back,  _ cereal _ . 

_ I'll clean it just go to bed, jackass.  _

Fucking Max, couldn't trust her as far as he could throw her. 

"Max was supposed to clean them." He immediately knows it's the wrong thing to say but it's an automatic response. Blame Max. 

Neil quirks an eyebrow at him, putting his mug down on the table. "Is that so? Correct me if I'm wrong but the dishes are part of  _ your _ chores, are they not?" 

That has Billy is scrambling to come up with something to say that doesn't sound like an excuse, because yes, dishes  _ are _ his job but he’d had a bit of a shit night and didn’t think leaving a bowl and spoon in the sink would be this much of an inconvenience.

_ That’s right Billy, you didn’t think. You never do, you useless retard- _

He can’t even finish his thought before Neil is rising from his chair, standing in front of Billy and crowding him back against the counter in seconds. 

"I ask you to do simple things son, I really do. Take care of your sister, pick up after yourself, and yet you leave a mess for someone else to clean and try to blame your laziness on Maxine. It's like you're making a game out of disrespecting me, son." 

His dad is in his face now, voice calm but Billy knows that doesn't mean shit. His heart is beating a mile a minute, muscles tensed as he tries to figure out what his old man is going to do. 

Neil leans in closer and all Billy can smell is coffee breath and Aqua Velva before Niel's grabbing him by the back of the neck, calloused fingers digging into the vertebrae and squeezing. Billy freezes up, lets his dad shove him towards the sink and he barely catches himself before busting his face open on the edge of the counter. 

A million different things run through his mind as he braces his arms, tries to prepare for whatever blow is about to come.

He hears the scrape of ceramic on laminate. 

Billy supposes he should be thankful his dad was a damn good pitcher back in the day because otherwise he's pretty sure the coffee mug that explodes just below the small window over the sink probably would have hit  _ him  _ whether his dad meant to or not. 

As it is, ceramic shrapnel flies in every possible direction, the small bit of coffee that had been left in the bottom of it splashing all over the window and wall. 

Billy feels a few sharp pieces cut into the skin of his arms and chest, feels some get caught in his hair. But he keeps perfectly still as his dad stands only a foot away from him, arms crossed and feet planted. "Clean it up." 

"Yes sir."

The blonde hears Niel's weight shift and immediately starts gathering up the broken mug pieces as fast as he can, cutting his fingers a few times in his haste. Not because his hands are shaking. 

His dad doesn't make a sound from his position behind Billy and it sets the teenager's teeth on edge, has his whole body taunt with anticipation and anger because Neil could choose any moment to strike and Billy wouldn't even see it coming. 

After what feels like a century of near silence his dad finally speaks. 

"Maybe this will teach you that you need to clean your own messes, not have someone else do it for you." He says, taking a step forward, cold sky blue eyes staring holes into Billy's own crystalline ones.

The silence stretches on again and Billy dares let his gaze flickr over to where Max’s little head is poking around the corner of the dining room wall. It’s a mistake.

Neil’s hands shoot out, grasping at his son’s shoulders in a bruising hold and Billy starts, eyes tearing back to look at his dad’s face only to jolt back harshly in terror, the small of his back slamming into the edge of the counter. A scream is caught in his throat as he stares into blackened pupils surrounded by a dark red selcra, the lower lid of one eye torn at the corner to the soft pinkish-red flesh beneath. A trail of blood runs from the ripped skin to drip onto a row of scalpel sharp teeth, jagged and pointing in various directions from a lipless mouth. A low clicking hiss is coming from it’s mouth and he feels the hands on his shoulders tighten their hold as the face surges forward with a choking growl and he tires to pull back again, fist balling up in preparation to slug it in the side of it’s head.

Then it’s gone, replaced by Neil’s unimpressed face, brows drawn together as he stares Billy down. 

"Apologize to Susan before you leave." 

"Yes sir." He says dumbly as his old man lets go of him and walks out the back door as though nothing had happened.

Max is still standing in the dining room staring at him and Billy…

Billy is clinging to the lip of the cheap counter with a death grip because it feels like his knees are about to give out and his heart is slamming into his ribcage so hard it hurts. His eyes skitter around until they land on the red head walking towards him slowly, his backpack clenched in her pale hands. She’s got a stupid frilly sweater on and the lavender clashes horribly with her firey hair. Her eyes trail over him before coming to rest on his face, expression bored and impatient. “Are you gonna get dressed or are you taking me to Will’s half naked? I don’t think Joyce is a creep like Mrs. Wheeler so-”

“Shut the hell up Maxine.” Billy forces out, finally feeling like his knees aren’t going to give out under him and pushing himself away from the sink, stalks down the hall and grabs the shirt he wore to bed the night before. It smells like sweat and he sprays some cologne on to cover the scent a bit. He grabs his keys off his night table and walks towards the front door, nearly shoving Max into the frame when she stops short to fix her stupid shoe. “Hurry the fuck up shitbird, I’m ready to have you outta my damn hair for the day.”

“The fuck is your problem?” She throws back as they walk towards the Camaro, Billy’s backpack bouncing against her back as she walks, nearly slips when she hits a patch of frozen grass. “You! You’re my goddamn problem! I almost got bottled because you couldn’t be arsed to wash two fucking dishes last night!” He yells, viciously yanking his door open to climb in. Now that he’s out of the immediate line of danger his anger is searing through him like a wildfire, intense and indiscriminate as to it’s target and Max is the only one around. 

Max slings his bag into the backseat and hastily clicks her seatbelt into place, anticipating the dangerous ride she’s about to be taken on both literally and figuratively. She’s not sure she’s ever going to get used to the violent ebb and flow of Billy’s unrelenting and endless torrent of fury. All she can do is wait and live in the moments when she’s in the eye of the storm, one false sense of peace at a time.

“He didn’t even hit you.”  _ Quit whining _ is implied but never said; Billy slams on the gas all the same, sending them flying down the street and Max grips the door with white knuckles. 

“Fuck you Max, you’re such a piece of shit!”

“Takes one to know one!” 

The car jerks as Billy changes gears sloppily.

“I should shove you out right here you little asshole!”

“Then do it shithead!”

“I swear to god, Maxine!”

“You don’t even believe in-HOLY SHIT BILLY!”

Max’s hand smacks onto the dashboard to brace herself as Billy slams on the breaks, tires screaming as the Camaro barely misses the Chief’s Blazer that’s parked halfway in the road, door hanging open. “Fuck me.” Billy says as he throws Lydia into neutral and cuts her off. He’s out and looking over the front of his precious car before Max can even pull her seatbelt off but once she’s out of the car she makes her way over to the police car.

“Billy…”

He looks up at the girl’s voice, attention drawn to the Blazer that he can now see is still on, idling quietly in the stillness of the foggy morning.

_ Foggy? What the hell, it was crystal clear out here a second ago… _

Billy doesn’t have time to contemplate much more than that before Max is darting off into the fucking woods and there’s nothing Billy can do but follow her.

“Max!” 


	3. This Is Bullshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has some opinions and then the worst thing that could possibly happen happens. Billy is bad at people. Max is Max. These kids are going to give Hopper a stroke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two chapters in a week? It's almost like I'm not working 45+ hours a week for the first time in 2 years. Anywho, more angst. We've got some Steve pov for context and plot purposes but after this most of the story is going to be Billy's pov cus i love this little blonde asshole. Not really any warnings for this one, it's pretty tame, there are just strange things afoot. also there may be formatting issues cus im a dumbass so ill fix them asap if this chap looks all fucked up  
comment  
enjoy  
kudo

** **

**Are You Deceived By What You Believe?**

According to Nancy Wheeler he was bullshit. 

Steve would like to disagree. In his humble and concise opinion, his fifth-period English class was total, proper, utter bullshit. Not so much the class itself but the miserable old bitty that taught it, the one who seemed to have it out for one Steve Harrington. 

Ms. Ogdon was as old as time itself, with thin grey hair and a hunched posture that screamed frailty and stiffness, and yet it didn’t seem to stop her from telling everyone, both staff and students alike that they were, to quote her: ‘ _ Fucking morons.’ _

Sweet old thing, Steve couldn’t imagine why she never married.

She’d worked at Hawkin’s High since it was built in the early 30’s and she hadn’t exactly been a spring chicken then. There was a rumor around town that she was a 100 year old forest witch that would suck the life out of students in class to keep herself alive. Steve believed it to a degree because no matter what day it was or how he felt the previous class, the moment he crossed the threshold of her room all his energy immediately drained away leaving behind a haze of boredom and sleepiness. 

Today however, he instantly perked up when the TA, Gretta Shoke shuffled around between the desks as nimbly as her hefty body would allow. Ms. O was droning on from her slumped position at her desk, reminding Steve of a stone gargoyle, all hunched and decrepit looking. “Frankly I’m more than a bit disappointed in the lot of you. This paper was worth 35 percent of your overall grade and yet nearly all of you failed spectacularly. It’s quite appalling, truly; only a handful of you seem to care about passing this class so you may graduate.” Gretta wandered over to the row of desks Steve was in and he let his eyes trail over her lazily, staring at the stack of papers in her thick hands as her manicured nails separated the pages carefully. She laid his paper face down on the corner of his desk and Steve wasted no time in flipping it over with a flourish; he was both disheartened but ultimately unsurprised to see a large red  **D ** circled at the top of the page. This paper had been his last chance at pulling up his overall grade to at least a C to pass and now it was just a pipe dream. He wasn’t going to graduate. 

He’d actually tried on this one too, that was the most frustrating part. Not only had he done actual research  _ at the library _ on this stupid book but he had gone two pages over the required minimum and turned it in a whole day early. Yet he was still going to have to face the indignity of getting held back or just leaving school altogether. He’d have to tell his  _ parents _ . Steve shivered, already hearing his dad’s disappointed voice rolling around in his head like a cue ball on a billiard table, knocking thickly against the inside of his skull.

_ Not going to graduate, how could you embarrass us like this Steven? Do you have any idea about the way it’s going to make us look, as parents? _

The boy snorted, wondering what his dad really thought was worse for people to believe; that they had been abandoning their only child at home for months at a time since he was 10 or that their kid was too dumb to graduate high school.

A hacking cough broke him out of his thoughts and he realized Ms. O had been croning on the whole time he was lost in his own thoughts. “Since nearly all of you did so poorly on this paper, I _will_ be allowing resubmissions at your request, so long as you accept help from an AP student of _my_ _choosing_.”

_ Yes! _

Nancy was in AP English ( along with AP everything else) so it would be almost a guarantee Ms. Ogdon would let her tutor him. Maybe his luck hadn’t run out just quite yet.

A bell rang and everyone started gathering their things in preparation to leave while Steve nearly bolted to the old woman’s desk, report clenched tightly in his fist. “I’d like help on a revision for my paper ma’am.” He said in the calmest voice he could, trying not to look too eager. The woman could sniff out desperation from a mile away and while Steve hadn't been a complete shit head in her class, he also hadn't always been on his best behavior. If she thought he was too desperate there was a chance he'd have to work with Lacey Halford. Steve cringed at the thought. Lacey was the epitome of 'the hotter she looks, the crazier she is' scale. Lacey was a hard 10 and therefore, batshit crazy. She’d been caught smoking meth and fucking a subsitiute teacher back in freshman year and trying to get in Steve’s pants for just as long; he’d managed to successfully avoid her at every turn.

Ms. O looked up at him from beneath her huge coke bottle glasses and held out a hand. Steve relinquished the papers and watched nervously as she flipped through them, re-reading her own notes and corrections. “ _ Lord of the Flies _ is a good choice Mr. Harrington. This report was a fair shot better than anything you’ve handed me in the four years I’ve taught you.” 

“Then why give me a D?” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it and the woman tosses his paper in front of herself before grabbing a green pen from a small black organizer sitting at the edge of the wooden desk. “ Because Mr. Harrington,” she says, scribbling something in the top corner of the page before holding it up for him to take, expression less than amused. “Everything you’ve ever given me has been a load of bullshit, spat haphazardly onto a page with no real thought. This was thoughtful, but that’s not enough. You need to give me something I can work with, not this disorganized mess.”

Steve nods stiffly, face feeling hot. School was so fucking stupid. He speed walks out of her classroom.

Why the hell did it matter anyway, it was just a stupid paper. He’s not planning on being a writer, he just wants to pass high school.

Glancing down at the paper in his hands he reads the note she left in the corner and comes to an abrupt halt in the middle of the hallway, a freshman nearly knocking him over in the process. Steve reads the words, two, three more times before balling the essay up and shoving it in his backpack angrily. This was it, this was official  _ bullshit. _

He doesn’t pull the paper back out until late that night, after he’d finished dropping the kids off.

The meeting at the diner had been...intense. El told them she felt something with the Upside Down changing, shifting. Like it was growing; Will said he felt the same thing and the more they talked about it the more Steve’s hands had started shaking. He thought they’d ended things when they destroyed the tunnel, when El closed the gate. That was supposed to have been the end. The end of freaky shit happening and people disappearing, the end of monster dogs with a million teeth and flowerfaced corpse-people. It felt like being in a nightmare he couldn’t quite wake up from; as though he was grasping at the surface of normality only to have it dissipate under his fingertips and leave him awash in some shitty si-fi horror sequence.

And in light of all that he was supposed to do school work too? How the hell was he supposed to focus on a stupid book report when there were literal monsters out in the woods that could EAT someone. Or drag them away, like what happened to Will. Dragged into a macabre mirror world with no way out while his friends and family were left behind to bury a fake body? It was unbelievable. Unthinkable. Un...something-able. And just Steve’s luck it would seem; he thought as he looked again at the inked scrawl at the top of his report paper for the thousandth time, as though it might have changed or simply ceased to exist altogether.

_ Revisions Allowed till Feb.3, 1985 _

_ AP student assigned to assist: _

_ William Hargrove _

This had to be some kind of cosmic joke at his expense. Or Ms. Ogdon had a really shitty sense of humor. Steve was already pretty sure she wanted him to fail and this was just the last nail in that damn coffin; there was no way he was going to ask Billy Hargrove for help with school work. And since when was Hargrove in AP English? He didn’t remember Nancy saying anything about it and he  _ knows _ she would have because she can’t stand that mullet wearing asshole anymore than he can.

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Pulls on the ends a bit. He glances at his clock, flashing LED numbers  **12:34AM ** telling him he’s been sitting here long enough. He gets up and wanders through the empty house, flips on the tv in the living room as he passes through and turns the volume up before wandering into the kitchen with the intent of making coffee. Instead he ends up over the stove watching a pot of noodles boil while he blows cigarette smoke towards the exhaust fan because he’s not going outside at one in the morning. He could just stop smoking all together like Dustin keeps telling him too, but it’s been a stressful day so he thinks he’s earned it. Besides he’s gotten much better, only has one here and there when he just absolutely needs the nicotine. He finds it hard to believe he used to smoke on a daily basis only a few months ago, last year seeming like a lifetime ago. He can’t imagine it now, just the thought of it has his lungs feeling tight. He’s got no idea how Hargrove does it; he remembers hearing Max telling the others once that the guy smoked a pack a day. 

Steve knocks the cherry off into the sink and tosses the butt into the trashcan. It’ll make the whole kitchen smell like tobacco by the morning but he doesn’t really give a shit. It’s not like anyone but him will be around to notice or care. 

Taking his bowl of over cooked noodles into living room and flopping down on the couch, the brunette watches M*A*S*H and I Love Lucy re-runs while shoving pasta in his mouth, trying to think of a way to work on that damn paper without getting anywhere near Billy Hargrove. 

He must fall asleep at some point because the next thing he notices is a god awful crick in his neck and pale morning sunlight filtering through the widows. Through the haze of sleep he realizes it’s the first time in months that he hasn’t woken up screaming or in a panicked frenzy, jumping at every shadow and sound in his overwhelmingly empty house.

Maybe it means today will be ok. It will be calm and quiet until he has to take the kids to the arcade and listen to them scream and argue with each other about some nerdy shit he couldn’t give a damn about but will listen to attentively regardless. Maybe he’ll take them out to the park on Main Street, next to the ice cream shop and let them get all hopped up on sugar while Dustin and Will wax poetic about Tolkin. Maybe he’ll just be a normal teenager again, for a day.

There’s a crackling static noise coming from somewhere upstairs and Steve’s heart jumps into his throat when he hears a garbled version of his name. His hand is patting around for the nail bat before the thing says his name again and it comes through more clearly, if a bit muffled. 

“STEVE CODE RED! STEVE!”

It’s Dustin’s frantic squeak that has him darting off the couch and running up the stairs two at a time. He races into his room, throwing blankets and pillows aside before grasping the walkie talkie on the floor beside his bed and jamming the button down.

“Dustin, I’m here, what’s going on, why code red?” 

His heart is in his throat, beating harshly and out of time. His hands shake where they grip the plastic of the walkie talkie and he starts looking around for his jacket and keys before his friend even responds.

There’s no way something could be happening already! El and Will had just felt the disturbances last night. It hadn’t even been 24 hours yet. What if it was another demodog?

“Hopper is coming by your place now! He’s got Mike and El. You guys gotta meet us by the old park on the other side of the tracks! It’s trying to get Will again!”

The last sentence has all the blood in Steve’s body freezing over, flowing through him like snowy slush on the side of the road and he pulls on his shoes and grabs his bat before bolting downstairs. His breathing comes out in harsh pants and everything around him seems to be in hyperfocus yet out of reach. Like he’s watching a really good quality movie. 

By the time he makes it outside Hopper is waiting in the driveway, the Blazer looking large and imposing as the man who drives it as it idles in the early morning light. Steve immediately jumps in the passenger's seat; Mike is holding El in the back and the two of them look shaken. Hopper’s mouth is set in a grim line, devoid of it’s usual cigarette and the tension in the vehicle is thick, rattling Steve’s already shot nerves as he shifts in his seat to look at the girl in the back. Her face is pale and eyes wide and she looks too young sitting there in an oversized windbreaker and blue pants. She  _ is _ too young, for any of this, all of them are. But these kids, Steve’s kids are tough as nails and El looks determined; it helps ground him a bit. Until she says the words he hadn’t wanted to hear.

“There’s another gate.”

There’s a long, stony silence after her words and Steve hears Hopper breathe heavily through his nose. Hears the man’s heavy winter coat rustle as he shifts in his seat to look at the rear view mirror. Mike places his head on El’s and grabs her hand. They share a few words Steve can’t make out over the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears. 

Hop turns onto Fulsom Road where the old park is and they don’t even get halfway down the abandoned road before something slams into the side of the Blazer, knocking all of them around like loose teeth. Mike crashes into the opposite side of the SUV, skinny arms shooting out to bracket around EL so he doesn’t land on top of her and Steve is nearly sent over the center console, the nail bat clatters to the floor and one of the sharp points catches in the material of his jeans. Hopper seems to be the least affected, recovering quickly even though Steve knows he heard the distinct noise of a skull bouncing off the window.

They’re all quiet for a beat as Hopper’s hand trails to his gun. Before any of them can react El is bolting out of the car, her small legs carrying her towards the tree line. “EL!” Hop yells, throwing his own door open while Mike nearly falls out the back in his haste to follow the girl. “Shit, fuck, goddamnit.” Steve says to himself as his anxiety is replaced by a wave of protectiveness for Eleven. He clambers out of the Blazer and takes off with the Chief and Mike, the three of them yelling El’s name. It occurs to him that they’re being really fucking loud; the last thing they need to do is draw attention to themselves and have people come snooping around. Especially if there really is another gate open. The farther they get into the woods the darker it gets and the more Steve’s grip around the bat tightens, ears listening intently for anything out of the ordinary, straining to hear over the crunch of shoes on dry frozen foliage and the shouts from the other kids that are becoming louder and clearer. 

They get to a clearing where Dustin, Will, and Lucas are standing backed against a line of trees and EL and Mike are on the opposite side of the gap. Between them stands a demodog, petaled mouth open and snarling as it stalks closer to the three boys trapped. “Steve!” Dustin yells sounding both relieved and petrified and Steve lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when he sees that the kids look unharmed. 

The demodog snarls at them before turning it’s attention to Steve and digging its clawed feet into the ground; Steve raises the bat in defiance and glares. “Hey buddy, mind telling me what’s going on?” 

“Gate!” The short boy says hastily, brown curls bouncing around without his usual ball cap to hold them down while pointing at a small hole in the ground near where El and Mike are standing.

Or where they  _ were _ standing.

As everyone’s attention is drawn to the two of them they all realize something is wrong. Steve thinks he can hear Hopper’s heart skip a few beats -along with his own-. 

El is on her knees with her hands over her ears, mouth gaped open in a silent scream as blood pours from her nose to drip into her mouth, staining her teeth and tongue. Mike has his arms around her as though he’s holding her together, like he’s the only thing keeping her from tearing apart at the seams. The demodog screeches and Steve sees a streak of red out of the corner of his eye, hears a young voice yell “EL!” as the demodog starts bounding towards him, kicking up rocks and debris as it’s snapping maw drips saliva everywhere. 

“Max!” He hears a raspy voice yell, almost right behind him just as the demodog is close enough. Steve plants his feet and swings, throwing his whole body into the hit, hips and shoulders twisting in time to follow the arc of the bat as the nails carve through rotting flesh and bone, as the wood strikes it in the head and sends it sprawling in the leaf covered ground. Tar like blood sprays everywhere and Steve feels Hargrove nearly collide with his back before Hopper is already making his way towards Eleven and Mike, following closely behind Max’s sprinting form. Dustin and Lucas dart forward towards Steve who is reaching back to grab Hargrove by the collar of his shirt and drag him around the fallen corpse. 

“Harrington what the fuck is going on, what the fuck is that? Max you little shit I’m gonna kill you. LET GO HARRINGTON!” Hargrove shoves Steve forward as they close in on Hopper and it almost sends the taller boy sprawling. Steve catches himself just in time and wheels around to shove him right back but just as he’s turning to face the other boy his body suddenly feels like it’s floating.

He registers the lack of solid ground under his feet a split second before he feels Dustin grab his jacket sleeve with a shout of “What the shit?!” 

Lucas yells Max’s name.

Hopper’s shout of surprise. 

The last thing he sees before his vision goes dark is Billy Hargrove’s terrified face.

**They Will Run You Down, Down To Your Core**

_ When he opens his eyes, Steve’s first thought is that he’s had his other two wisdom teeth removed and everything that happened in the forest was some drug induced nightmare, everything feels wobbly and out of focus. If he closes his eyes and concentrates hard enough he’ll fall asleep and when he wakes up he’ll be in his bed at home. Only this can’t be a dream. It can’t be a dream because he can feel the scratchy, cheap carpet under his fingertips and he can feel where he’s laying on a toy of some sort, the hard plastic digging into his back. He can smell the scent of dirty shoes and strawberries.  _

_ He opens his eyes. _

_ Steve blinks rapidly, vision slowly clearing enough for him to make out the tiny little dots of greenish blue lights above him. It takes him a second to realize it’s a bunch of those nifty little glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling in a cheap imitation of the beautifully bright night skies Steve had grown up under. _

_ Sitting up slowly and looking around he sees that he’s in a room, a small one at that, barely any bigger than his closet at home. There’s just enough room for a twin bed to his left and a small dresser with a little mirror above it on the opposite wall, a flimsy looking door situated between them and a small toy box shoved into a corner behind him. _

_ Despite it’s size the room feels comfortable; everything from the bedspread to the walls are brightly coloured and clean looking -if not a bit worn- and there are polaroids tacked all over the walls and wedged between the mirror face and it’s frame. He doesn’t recognize anyone in the photos, most of them are children -classmates?- and a pretty redheaded woman.  _

_ A handful of them are of a somewhat rough looking brown haired man with dark eyes and vacant smile. One photo shows him with a small girl on his lap, dressed in her Sunday best and an Easter basket on her lap. He stares at this one longer, taking in the red hair and pale face.  _

_ It’s Max, he thinks belatedly, a very young version, she can’t be more than 5 or 6 in the photo. It makes Steve smile a little, she looks happy. Genuinely happy as opposed to that half smile she usually had around the boys, the real smile she only flashed every so often when she thought none of them were watching. It makes Steve wonder what happened to her before they moved to Hawkins. She never talks about missing California, not like Billy does sometimes when he gets drunk and lays in on their shitty little town like it’s Hell on Earth.  _

_ He hears a rapid set of footsteps and doesn’t even have time to prepare before a slightly older version of the one in the photo is standing next to him. She’s still younger than the Max he knows, with slightly shorter and lighter hair but it’s that same pale face. Only this one is streaked with tears, a glittering wetness sticking her eyelashes together as a small sniffle breaks the silence of the room. A woman, the one from the photo -Susan Mayfield (Hargrove?)- is standing at the doorway looking concerned.  _

_ “Why can’t Neil just send him away?! He’s awful and mean!” Max sobs, snatching down a picture from the cluster on the wall angrily. This one looks more like a Christmas card, dated 1981 and inside the decorative border stands Max and her mom, along with the man Steve assumes is Neil Hargrove and a younger looking Billy. He can’t help but stare, his gaze locked on the image that looks so different from the boy he knows. The Billy in the photograph has short hair, sandy blonde curls cropped short in something like a grown out high and tight; a military cut. He’s smaller too, shoulders more narrow and lacking the defined musculature Steve is familiar with, boyish. His eyes are what catch Steve’s attention though, that bright ocean blue that he sometimes can’t believe is real unless he’s looking at them. The eyes on the younger Billy are flat, hollow, lacking that spark that Steve was used to seeing on the basketball court. Gone is the raging fire that was in his eyes that night at the Byers’ house as he took Steve’s punches like he was fucking made for it.  _

_ The younger Max slams the photo down on the dresser top, grabs a pair of scissors and begins furiously scraping away at the image while her mother pleads in the background for her to calm down. By the time the girl’s breathing evens out and she’s stopped crying Billy’s image has been etched away completely aside from a small corner of his shirt sleeve and a flyaway curl.  _

_ Susan steps a bit closer as Max balls up the card and throws it towards the closed door beside her. “I hate him. I hate him so much.”  _

_ “I know sweetheart. I’m sorry.” _

**Congratulations! Your Difficulty Level Has Been Upgraded To : SURVIVAL MODE **

  
  


The first thing Steve Harrignton does when he  _ actually _ wakes up is start coughing like he’s got emphysema or some shit. His lungs feel dry and tight, kind of like when you stand on the wrong side of a bonfire for too long breathing in all the hot air and debris. Dustin is beside him, covered in dirt and dust but looking relatively unharmed aside from a scraped elbow and knee. The boy’s presence almost puts him at ease, till he sees the horrified look on Dustin’s round face, eyes wide with panic. “Steve! This is bad man, this is  _ so _ bad.” He says in somewhat of a hushed whisper, just this side of hysterical. And it must be pretty damn bad for him to be this worked up because usually Dustin is jumping at the chance to learn more about all this crazy shit, like it’s one big terrifying science experiment.

He hears someone shift behind him and Hopper’s gruff voice ring out in the oppressive silence around them.

“You can say that again.” 

Pushing himself up, the teen grunts as his sore muscles protest, letting him know he had a pretty rough landing ...Landing...Oh. Oh  _ shit.  _ Gathering himself Steve whips his head around, heart rate ramping up as he takes in his surroundings. 

A darkened sky looms over them, glowing red and ominous, foreboding with it’s swirling presence. The thunderous looking clouds (are they even really clouds?) lighting up intermittently with sharp flashes that do nothing to illuminate their surroundings. The forest around them looks old and dead, dark and shadowed in a way that puts Steve’s teeth on edge and has every muscle in his body tensed up and ash is falling like snow. 

“We’re in the Upside Down.” He finds himself saying out loud, not quiet hearing the words as they come out of his own mouth. Steve scrambles to his feet as Dustin holds up his little hands, like Steve is a spooked horse that he’s trying to calm. Sets his face in a neutral expression that looks way too out of place and does nothing to ease the taller boy’s anxiety.“We fell through the gate.” Hopper grunts out behind him and Steve turns, panic tangy on the tip of his tongue, searing through his veins like too much cheap whiskey on prom night and making him feel unsteady, dizzy. 

The Chief is standing a few feet away from him with his arms crossed, cigarette smoldering away between his lips as he paces back and forth, brows furrowed in thought. His uniform pants are dirty and have a small tear near the knee and the thick coat he’s got on is unzipped to reveal his khaki shirt, a carton of Camels peaking shyly out of the breast pocket. 

Beside him stand Max and Lucas, looking considerably less dirty than Dustin and Hopper but just as rattled. Lucas has his arm around the redhead’s shoulders and Steve isn’t sure whether it’s meant for comfort or to help ward off the chill in the air. Max is only in a thin sweater and pants and she must be freezing but she says nothing, standing silently like a spill of paint across the darkened canvas of their surroundings. Lucas isn’t much better off, only wearing a blue zip up hoodie over his Coke-a-Cola shirt and his usual pair of jeans covered in grass stains.

A movement out of the corner of his eye has Steve’s hackles rising, hand closing around nothing reflexivity as he stands in front of Dustin. When his eyes finally fix on the last member of their little group he feels a sinking sense of dread fill his stomach. 

Billy Hargrove stands adjacent to himself and Hopper, an outlier among the lot of them. He looks worse off than Hopper and Dustin, covered in all sorts of grit and grime, there are holes in his shirt and jeans -though knowing Hargrove’s fashion sense, he can’t be sure those weren’t there already- and his hair is all over the place, golden curls wild and frizzy. There’s dried blood down the side of his face where it looks like his eyebrow has been split open and he’s shivering, the sleeveless shirt doing nothing to ward off the chilly air. He looks pissed and scared shitless. The craziness if the situation hits him all at once and after an awkward beat it’s got Steve doubled over with laughter, unable to stop himself. In an instant Hargrove is in his face, grabbing Steve by the sleeves of his jacket just like he did  _ that _ night. “What’s so fuckin’ funny Harrington?” He says in that deep rasp, stupid west coast accent rolling off his tongue sweet and sharp. Threatening.

Everything. This whole situation is completely bonkers and Steve’s brain isn't sure how to cope with it aside from laughing like a lunatic apparently. 

And he knows that now is absolutely  _ not _ the time to pick a fight with the playground bully but Steve feels like he’s walking on a knife edge of fear and fury. His heart is beating a mile a minute because there’s a  _ very _ distinct possibility that they’re going to get painfully murdered by something that will look like a monster from a Stephen King novel and he just wants to push back against the monster in front of him now. Like taking on Hargrove will prove he can take on anything this place can throw at him. (It’s fucking stupid because Will had survived for two whole weeks here and he was all alone with no idea what the hell was going on, Steve is with a group of nerds that have basically made it their job to learn about this place  _ and _ Hopper. The chances of them making it back home are actually pretty high if they’re careful.)

Instead his brain decides to try and rile up the boy that beat the shit out of him a month and a half ago. Logical. 

Being a teenager was hard ok? Give him a break.

“Fuck you.” Is Steve’s only response before Hopper is pushing them apart. “Hey hey, none of that shit. I need you girls to play nice right now or else…” 

_ We’ll die _

_ I’ll beat both your asses _

Hop trails off and Steve isn’t sure whether it was for the benefit of the kids or because he didn’t feel like doling out threats when they had bigger problems but he doesn’t question it. He’ll play nice so long as Hargrove does.

_ Hargrove doesn’t know how to play nice. _

Steve shrugs his shoulders to adjust his jacket and looks around in the decayed foliage for a moment until he spots the bat a few feet away.

It’s a small wonder none of them had landed on it, he thinks with a wince. “Ok, so now that Steve is finally awake we need to get a move on. Our best bet is to go to the lab.” Hopper says after a minute, straightening up and taking charge. He’s in full Chief mode and it makes Steve feel a million times better about this whole thing. Max and Lucas nod in agreement while Dustin gives him a sceptical look. “The Lab?! That’s gotta be, like, miles from here Chief.” 

Steve sees Hopper’s eye twitch.

“Yeah it’s about 35 miles outside of town.” 

Dustin throws his hands up, “What are we gonna do,  _ walk there?” _ And Steve kind of agrees, he’s not lazy or anything but 35 miles sounds like a  _ long _ way and also a pain in the ass. He’s got no idea how to even figure out how long a walk like that would take either. 

  
  


“Probably don’t have another choice, doubt anything here runs.” Hargrove says offhandedly. He’s looking at the dismantled metal playground in the distance, hands rubbing at his arms to try and warm them up. It’s not  _ freezing _ out but Steve  _ can _ see his breath faintly misting in front of his face every so often. “Oh how would you know? Just cus we gave you the crash course a la Upside Down doesn't mean you know anything.” Lucas snaps and Max rolls her eyes, elbowing him in the ribs.

Hopper breathes through his nose slowly and Steve wonders just how long he was out if they’d had time to give Hargrove a run down of what the hell was going on.

Hargrove bares his teeth at the boy and it makes Lucas back up a step even though there’s about 10 feet of space and a Hopper and Steve between them. 

“Oh shut up and look around you little shithead, everything looks like it’s aged a million and a half years. Mirror world bullshit or not doesn’t change the fact that gasoline evaporates and car batteries die if they aren't cranked regularly.” Dustin scoffs and Hopper holds a hand up to stop any more banter. “He’s right, the chances of anything around here running are non existent. We’re gonna have to do this the hard way and I am going to need  _ everyone,” _ he pauses to look at Billy “to cooperate. Understood?”

There’s a chorus of grumbles from the kids and Billy just snorts, head whipping around to stare in the general direction of the road. “Hargrove. Do I make myself clear?” Hopper says slowly, eyeing the blonde boy carefully. A beat passes. 

“Yeah yeah, I hear you.”

The Chief’s shoulders sag a bit before he turns his gaze to Steve and the others. “Alright, first things first, we need to get to the Blazer. It’s got some supplies that might come in handy.”

**Time Isn't Real and I'm Not Convinced I Am Either**

As the little rag-tag group treks through the creepy patch of woods they'd landed in Billy does his best to keep his shit together. His head is damn near on a swivel, turning this way and that at any and every moment because he's got _no_ _idea_ what's going on still, not really. Those little turds had told him about this place, about how baby Byers ended up here when everyone thought he'd been kidnapped or murdered in the woods or some shit. About the girl that got snatched from Harrington's back yard while he was getting hot and heavy with that Wheeler bitch. That was some fucked up shit if Billy ever heard it. 

The others are talking amongst each other quietly, Hopper seems to be the only one that doesn't have some kind of input. He's a cop though so Billy knows if he’s worth a damn his strengths lie in observation more than anything. He's watching the woods around them, just like Billy. 

As they reach the tree line Billy sees the decrepit remains of a Chevy Trailblazer, driver side door still propped open liked it had been on the flip side, though now the engine sits silently in the emptiness around them. He watches as Hopper cautiously makes his way over and shines his maglight in the windows, searching for any surprise guests that may have made a home inside the rusted out frame. Maybe they’ll get lucky and whatever decides to eat them will go for the face first, a quick death. Not that Billy really cares. If any of the freaky shit around here does get to them it’s going to hurt regardless. He eyes the gun at Hopper’s hip.

_ There’s always a quicker way if things go tits up. _

Like everything wasn’t  _ already _ fucked six ways to Sunday. 

Billy reaches out, lets his fingers grasp the thin material of Max's shitty sweater and pulls her towards where the Camero sits just a few feet away. She jerks away from his grip but follows him nonetheless, blue eyes gazing down the deserted street. As they reach the vehicle Billy feels something like sorrow pull at his chest as he takes in the chipped paint and broken windows; the way Lydia,  _ his baby _ , seems to sag brokenly in the still nothingness.

He knows it’s not real, that his car is perfectly fine in the real world. That thought does nothing to stop the pang under his sternum as he runs his fingers over the hood, rust and dead leaves catching on his fingertips. 

She’d been through a lot with him; his first car, bought cheaply off the neighbourhood lush when the man had gotten too desperate for the drink. Billy had bid his time for her, had been eyeing her for 2 years before he’d even been old enough to drive -legally- and eyeing old man Johnston’s downward spiral into the bottom of a bottle after his wife died. One month after his 16th birthday -three days after he’d seen Johnston pocketing a few bottles of Listerine at the 99 cent store- he approached the man with $980 in hand and a promise to treat the Z28 right. 

Mr. Johnston had parted with it solemnly, but quickly.

Since then not a single day had passed that Billy didn’t sleep or sit in her. His car was the only constant he’d had in the world since his mom died. It was there when Neil’s lessons got too heavy, when his thoughts got too loud, and when his loneliness got the better of him. 

Lydia was his home.

Pulling open the door and cringing as the metal creaks, the groan of the hinges sounding like a gunshot in the stillness of this backwards world, he pops the trunk and pulls his backpack out of the backseat. Just like everything else here tt’s covered in all sorts of grey film, kind of like the stuff falling from the sky and he makes a face before digging out Max’s shoes, silently relieved when the green suede seems to be no worse for the ware. The girl’s face lights up when she sees them dangling from between his fingers and she wastes no time kicking off the stupid flats Susan made her ware. Billy scowls at her when she all but snatches them from his grip, cuffing her on the back of the head before upending his backpack, sending books and papers scattering everywhere. Harrington glares at him with those exhausted eyes from his protective stance next to the curly haired kid and Maxine’s little boyfriend.

Billy riffles through the trunk looking for anything that might be useful. Most of it’s just random crap that he’d forgotten to get out of the trunk following the move: movies, clothes, a few books and records. The spare blanket and pillow he kept stashed there for emergencies. 

_ Speaking of stash. _

He grabs his denim jacket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes from the inner pocket and shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans before yanking on the shoulder of Max’s jacket. “Take that damn thing off and put this on, it’ll actually keep you warm.” Maxine eyeballs him skeptically and doesn’t move. “I don’t want your stupid jacket, that thing smells.” Her attitude pisses him off so he spins her around and jerks the stupid lavender abomination over her head. “Yeah you don’t smell like a damn rose either, dumbfuck.”

“You jackass!” She hisses when her face is finally free, red hair frizzed with static. She elbows him in the ribs, right on top of a healing bruise and he doubles over in pain but it doesn’t stop him from grabbing her arms and shoving them through the sleeves like she’s some unruly toddler -she might as well be, as fucking annoying as she is-, and Maxines little friends come martching over.

“Hargrove what the hell is your problem?” Harrington says, walking up and grabbing him roughly by the shoulder, acting like the good little white knight everyone pretends he is.

The only problem is, he  _ isn’t  _ and Maxine sure as shit ain’t no goddamn damsel in distress.

“I can take care of myself Steve!” Max says before the brunette even finishes spinning Billy around to face him. She pulls her leg back, grips the lip of the trunk where she’s perched and kicks Billy in the hip, the bottom of her shoe landing flat on the crest of bone. It fucking hurts, he’s probaby going to be missing skin, his thin t-shirt not doing shit to protect against the thick rubber soles.

The kick has enough follow through that it nearly sends him sprawling but he catches himself at the last second. Forgets about Harrington to round on Max who’s now looking pissed and ridiculous in his jacket because it’s practically swallowing her.

A hot sear of fury flows through him in a flash because she  _ hit _ him. She fucking hit him when he was  _ trying _ to be nice and make sure she didn’t freeze to death. She was such an ungrateful little bitch and now that she had all of her little friends to watch her back, to keep him out numbered, she was ramping up to be an insufferable little shit.

Fuck her. He’s not going to play this fucking game. He’s tired of games.

He reaches out to shove her so she falls into the trunk, hoping she slams her head on the latch.

“You little bitch, I should-” A hand grabs his arm and just like that his anger evaporates into fear. 

The hand is too big to be Harrington’s, it encircles Billy’s whole wrist and then some, the fingers overlapping. “That’s enough out of you Hargrove.” Hopper’s voice says, dangerously close to his ear and Billy realizes the man is behind him. His shoulders hunch as he tries to pull to the side so he’s not trapped, sandwiched between Max and Hopper with Harrington and those other two cabbage patch kids to his right. Hopper’s grip is firm though and it makes him panic more, he’s fucking trapped. 

He pulls harder, wrenching his arm away and feels his battered ribs twinge harshly before Hopper lets go. The man stands between him and Max, eyes hard and mustache twitching. “Stay away from them. I want you five feet away from her at all times. Got it?”

“Fuck you!” Billy snaps because  _ no one tells him what to do _ . “Incase you hadn’t noticed, we’re in some other fucked up dimension, you don’t exactly have  _ jurisdiction _ here.” He’s so over this shit already and it’s probably not even been an hour. How the hell is he supposed to walk for a jillion miles with these fuckers?

Hopper takes a threatening step forward and Billy tenses, eyes tracking his movements carefully. Brings his fists up in preparation for a fight. Hopper is a big guy, way bigger than his old man. He’s got close to 6 inches on Billy and is at least 70 pounds heavier; it’s not a fight he’d win if Hopper caught him. But Billy has stamina in spades, if he can keep out of the man’s reach he could tire him out. 

Billy’s eyes flit over to Harrington and those other brats. 

That could complicate things if it gets physical. He’s not worried about Harrington, he already knows the guy can’t take a punch for shit and barely knows how to throw one, but the other boy is fast, and Steve’s endurance is far closer to being on par with his own. If Harrington catches him long enough for Hopper to get his hands on him good- 

A deep voice drags him back to reality. “Hargrove! Do you understand?” Billy blinks, because he had no idea what the hell the Chief said but their all looking at him and as much as he likes being the center of attention, he’s acutely aware of what he looks like right now: an abandoned garbage pail kid. It’s making him uncomfortable and after a moment he realizes it’s because he feels self-conscious. 

Billy is good at one thing, standing there and looking pretty and he can’t even manage that right now. Max takes a step forward and thrusts her arm out. For a second he thinks she’s about to hit him again, to see if she can get away with it once more, and he tenses his abs. It makes what’s left of the bruise on his ribcage throb as the muscles contract and he grits his teeth, but the hit never comes. She just stares up at him with those eyes that look too much like his sometimes and shakes her arm. “Roll the sleeves up.” 

Billy understands this is her way of apologizing; she could have asked any one of those other rejects to do it but she’d asked him instead. So he does as she asks and rolls the sleeves of his jacket up so they sit just above her thin wrists. Uses the task as a convenient excuse to not look at Hopper even though he can feel the man’s gaze burning a hole in the side of his head. “Billy won’t hurt me.” Maxine says after he’s rolled both of the sleeves up, turning her disarming gaze to the others. Harrington is the first one to protest, arm coming up to rest on his hip like the fucking mother hen he is as Billy is already mad at whatever the asshole is about to say. “We literally just watched him smack you across the back of the head.” Max’s gaze doesn’t waver and Billy wonders what the hell is going on here. “You do the same thing to Dustin and Mike sometimes.” 

Harrington barely has time to sputter out a “That’s different!” before Max is stalking over to him. “Why?! Cus I’m a GIRL?” and Billy would laugh at the way the brunette tries to backpedal if it weren’t for the inhuman screech that pierces the air a second later, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Everyone goes silent. 

The screech comes again, closer and Hopper hefts the duffle bag he’s carrying higher on his shoulder before looking at all of them, expression more serious than Billy has ever seen it.

“We need to move. Now.” 


	4. This Saturday Is Never Going To End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy clears the air with Lucas, drops a bomb on Max and Hopper makes a plan. Steve stares at Billy and is tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we go, this one is pretty dialogue heavy but that's plot for you.   
You guys should leave comments cus that's cool and shit  
twitter and tumblr  
@bag_ex and exteenagedirtbag  
no photo edit for this chapter  
oh and did i mention i actually have a thought out plot for this one? crazy right? i edited the Hop/billy tag b/c i don't want to force it and the plot isn't lending itself to that so i've removed it for now, that can change tho  
i'm just going edit crazy cus rn   
ENJOY AND COMMENT I LOVE YOU GUYS

**Sharpen Your Teeth On My Bones**

They end up running in the opposite direction they need to go to get to whatever lab Hopper keeps talking about. Billy only knows that because the curly haired kid keeps screaming it every so often as they haul ass down Third Street. Harrington tells him to shut up because ‘we know Dust, we know!’ but it doesn’t stop him. Billy would strangle him if he wasn’t too busy running from a fucking rotting corpse with a mouth for a head. As if it wasn't creepy enough with a petaled mouth full of pointy looking teeth, it keeps letting out that god awful scream as it chases them. It’s almost kind of funny in a really fucked up way. Every time it screams one of the kids scream too, like some morbid version of Marco Polo and Billy has to remind himself that this is  _ not _ fucking funny, even as Max’s boyfriend yelps when it lunges closer to them. (Well, closer to Hopper and Dustin. Those two are the slowest out of all of them and Billy is willing to bet money one of them will get eaten first.)

“FUCK! OFF! AH!” Dustin yells as he throws something over his shoulder, wacking the thing in the head and making it snarl. Harrington grabs him by the front of his shirt and hauls him forward with a cry of frustration. "We need to get out of the open, this thing probably has friends!" Max yelled as she gripped Lucas' hand more tightly in her own before looking back at Steve, Hopper, and Dustin. 

The Chief pointed at the upcoming intersection "Right, go right, hardware store and a pharmacy around the corner!" He said breathlessly but loud enough for Billy to hear at the front of their little group. Which is kind of stupid considering Billy still doesn’t know his way around Hawkins so he’s kind of just going in the general direction of ‘not surrounded by trees’ or ‘less dilapidated looking than everything else’. He also has no idea what is lurking around here and there’s so much of that ash/dust/whatever the fuck falling around them he’s literally running blind.

Not like that’s much different than how most of his life has been.

Turning the corner without even slowing down the blonde didn't have time to react when something sharp and slimy slammed into him. Or he slammed into it, he wasn't really sure what happened. One minute he was hauling ass, backpack slamming against his lower back and breathing in measured pants then all of a sudden something was ramming into his shoulders and he was on the ground, broken pavement and glass digging into his elbows and legs where he landed. 

He let out a shout of surprise as he hit the ground, eyes darting up to look at whatever the hell he'd just crashed into and  _ jesus christ what the everloving fuck _

The thing leering over him had to be at least 6 feet tall, tottering on tripod like feet connected to long thin legs that held up a headless torso which seemed to just be one giant mouth. Two long skeletal arms protruded from where it's rib cage should have (theoretically) been and it's rough and bumpy skin glistened like it was covered in grease, reminding him vaguely of all those old people at the beach who had spent too long out in the sun, slathering Panama Jack tanning oil over their leathery skin. 

Thankfully this thing didn't seem to have the same inclination for rabid screeching like it's flower faced buddy, but when it's torso-mouth opened with a menacing crackling noise Billy figured that probably didn't matter in the long run because he was about to get his whole face ripped off. 

And then Max, Sinclair, Harrington, Hopper, and that other kid where all coming around the corner like Hell was on their heels and Billy's only thought was 

_ Oh fuck _

Max skidded to a stop so fast her feet slid out from under her and she landed flat on her ass, letting go of Sinclair's hand to brace her fall while Harrington and that Dustin kid stopped just short of trampling her. Sinclair had too much momentum going to stop the way Max had and ended up tripping over Billy's prone body, bony knees ramming into Billy’s shoulder blade and spine. He ended up sprawled at the feet of their new monster pal and Billy heard Hopper curse somewhere behind him. 

The thing's open maw seemed to pulsate, rows upon rows of sharp teeth clicking together as it refocused it's attention to the brat that was crumpled at it's feet. "Lucas!" came Harrington's panicked cry and without even thinking Billy sat up, grabbed the kid by the back of his jacket and  _ yanked _ . Thankfully Sinclair was a skinny little brat and was too surprised to struggle as he was pulled back and  _ lifted _ over Billy's shoulders, yelping when was basically shoved into Harrington's arms.

The thing slammed one of its freakish looking arms into the ground where the kid had just been and the force of it cracked the cement. It let out a series of displeased clicks and gurgles as Billy dug his boot heels into the ground and shoved himself back. It took a wobbly step forward at him, the clicking getting progressively louder as it leered over the boy and Billy could feel his pulse thrumming behind his eyes, in his throat, as everything around him seemed to waver in and out of focus for a few seconds. 

After a moment he managed to get his feet under him, jumping into a standing position as there was an ear shattering scream from behind them. "Move, move!" Hopper said as he darted across the street, Max and Dustin herded in front of him. Harrington grabbed Lucas' hand to drag him along, nail bat swinging dangerously from his other hand when the screeching monster took a few lurching steps too close. Billy wasn’t entirely sure why Harrington hadn’t taken a swing at the thing yet but then again Billy didn’t really have much of an idea about anything around here so...

“Guys hurry up!” The short kid yelled from his position holding open the door of David’s Drugs, the small bell tinkling away as he jumped up and down like it was going to make them move any faster. Harrington and Sinclair ran past him with Billy following close behind, shoving the little cabbage patch kid inside and turning the lock on the door even though the glass panels were sure to break the minute one of those things put any kind of force up against them. 

The inside of the store was just as decrepit looking as everything else around, coated in all kinds of dirt and debris, giving the impression that anything they touched would denigrate under the lightest touch. The shelves and counters had objects scattered all over, like the place had been ransacked, loose pills lay scattered all over the floor, rusted containers of who knows what sat on the island table behind the main counter.

“Come on there’s a stock room in the back where they keep the meds, it’s got a reinforced door.” Hopper barked out as he literally chucked Max and Lucas over the pharmacy counter, knocking all kinds of shit over in the process and Billy could hear plastic and cardboard crunch under their shoes as they landed. Harrington helped Dustin over before going himself. Hopper clamored over about as gracefully as his frame and cumbersome coat would allow while Billy damn near dove over it, sliding across the cheap and dirty counter top to land in a heap on the other side. Glass shattering behind them had Billy shoving himself up, looking around wildly for the others as his heart rate sped up. He spotted Hopper waving him over from a doorway to his right and hauled ass towards it when the shuffling behind him got even louder. 

He ran inside and the Chief slammed the heavy door behind him swiftly, bringing the chase to a sudden halt. 

For a while the only sound in the storeroom were panting breaths and the rustling of clothes. A few coughs here and there, mostly from him and Hopper. Billy figured it was because they were the only smokers; Billy’s lungs felt tight and his throat was raw and dry from sucking in so much of the cold and filthy air.

Sliding down the door he was leaning against , the blonde slumped forward as his heaving breaths finally started to even out. He looked around the cramped room, eyeing the metal shelves lined with all sizes and shapes of bottles and boxes, little stickers placed in alphabetical order down the rows. A small sink was tucked into the back corner next to a counter lined with those amber bottles that gross liquid cough medicine usually came in. As he continued his survey he realized that all the kids were staring at him and Harrington was giving them a confused look.

Billy cocked an eyebrow and gave a little jerk of his head ‘ _ what?’ _

The kids looked between each other before Sinclair lifted his head higher in the air. “Why did you pull me away from that thing?”

“The hell you talkin’ about? Was I supposed to let it eat you?” Billy said incredulously. 

Damn, knew he wasn’t the nicest guy around and, like, okay, he technically had threatened to kill the kid for kneeing him in the balls that night at Byers’ but did they for real think he was going to let some freaky monster eat him?

“I mean, you’ve made it  _ pretty _ clear that you don’t like black people so why the hell did you help?” He elaborated and Billy felt a headache forming behind his eyes. He should have figured that’s what this was about and as much as he didn’t want to have this talk it was totally about to happen. 

He rubbed at his eyes as he stood on shaky legs, not wanting to have a conversation with all these little brats glaring down at him. He had a sinking feeling this talk was going to be a trainwreck so he may as well be at eye level with them. “Okay hold up, it ain’t like that kid.” 

“Sure sounds  _ like that.  _ Max told us the shit you said.” Dustin said matter of factly as he glowered at Billy from beneath a mess of hair.

“Shut it Curly, I’m not fuckin’ racist okay? It... wasn’t like that.” He said carefully, very aware of the fact that he was probably backing himself into a verbal corner and hating every minute of it.

Lucas gave him the most unimpressed look he’d ever seen on a 14 year old and gestured at him. 

“Then what was it  _ like _ , huh?”

Billy was quiet, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound like a bullshit excuse, because yeah, it kind of  _ had _ been like that but not because that's how  _ he _ felt. It was because his old man hated black people as much as he hated queers and now Billy was stuck in a situation where he was having to defend himself about some shit he’d parroted from his old man, hoping Max would go along with it without asking questions like he did at her age. 

Except Max wasn’t like Billy, she wasn’t a dumbass. She wasn’t a piece of shit that made some kid think Billy would kill him just ‘cus he was black. It was getting more and more fucked up the longer he thought about it and he felt his stomach twist shamefully. 

Max crossed her arms at him and scoffed. She looked real pissed off, the little shithead. “Come on Billy, quit pretending you aren't just like Neil about that stuff.”

The blonde bit his lip nervously as he gestured to the two of them and Max grabbed Lucas’ hand. “Max  _ I _ don't care that he's black, but  _ Neil _ does and if he sees you two he's gonna make it my problem, ok?”

Why the hell couldn’t she understand that? If his dad saw them together or got word that his perfect little girl was dating a black boy? If he found out Billy had  _ let _ it happen? Just the thought of it had his hands fisting spasmodically in the material of his shirt, trying to control his breathing.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

“Why the hell should I believe you?! You never argue with the ignorant shit he says so that’s just as good as agreeing with it!” At that Billy was quiet as he felt his face getting hot with embarrassment. He knew Max was right, the stuff his dad said was bullshit, he  _ knew _ that. He knew his dad said fucked up stuff about anyone who wasn’t white, and Billy had never done a thing to correct him, just ignored it. And that was as good as, like Max said. Right?

Billy was at a complete loss for what to say. 

"Look what do you want me to say here? I say I'm not racist, and you shits don’t believe me. I say I  _ am, _ and..." 

Lucas stared at him for a long time, and it made Billy uncomfortable, like he was getting sized up by a fucking 14 year old. After what seemed like an eternity he finally spoke. "How about you just apologize like a normal person? Ever think about that?” The way he said reminded him of Harrington, that night at Thompson’s party, when he was asking if Billy was going to drive wasted; like Billy was an idiot.

Maybe he was.

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room and the blonde blinked, suspicious. Was that really all he wanted? An apology? It seemed too easy. There was no way that was it.

‘Sorry’s’ didn’t mean jackshit in the Hargrove household.

_ “You aren’t sorry for what you did son, you’re sorry I caught you! _ ”  _ Neil yelled as he grabbed Billy by the hair and shoved him into the wall, plucking the fallen joint from the floor and pressing the smoldering end against the soft flesh behind Billy’s ear. “I catch you smoking this filth again, I’ll put the next one out in your eye.” _

Billy started as he realized the whole room seemed to be waiting for his response, the eyes on him almost enough to distract from the clattering around outside the door. Billy didn’t trust it but he’d do what the kid asked, if not because he wanted to smooth things over but because Billy  _ was _ actually sorry. 

He took a deep breath. 

"Okay look, I don't have any problems with you and I'm sorry for giving you shit, it wasn't cool. Things got too out of hand that night and...it won’t happen again.” Billy held out his hand for Lucas to shake and the boy seemed hesitant at first, eyes drifting to the others before he came to his decision. He placed his smaller hand in Billy’s and they shook once before separating. Max was smiling lightly and casting glances at Billy from the corner of her eye when she thought he wasn’t looking. There was a click as Hopper lit another cigarette and Billy resisted the urge to pull one out as well, He needed to ration them in case they got stuck here too long.

Shoulders sagging, Billy let out a breath and tried to force his tense muscles to relax. He was starting to get stiff and achy from the cold, not to mention the circulating flurry of emotions and flagging levels of adrenaline where wearing on his frayed nerves.

Then Dustin decided to open his mouth and it all went to shit again. “Uh, are you gonna apologize to Steve? You kinda almost killed him too that night.” and Billy’s teeth audibly clicked together as he snapped his mouth shut in an attempt to not tell him to fuck off. 

“I don’t owe Harrington an apology for  _ shit _ .” He snapped and saw the boy in question scowl.

_ One step forward, three steps back Hargrove.  _

"Billy!" Max snapped, head whipping around in a fan of red hair but Harrington held up his hand and stood up a little straighter while he faced Billy. In the flickering light from the bulb over head Billy could see the downward slant of his brows and the indifferent frown on his face. The shadows highlighted the contours of his face, his exhaustion ringed eyes and the dip of his collarbones just beneath the collar of his shirt. It made him look haunted, like the ghost of the boy Billy had gone toe to toe with, that he had beaten into the wooden boards of Byers’ living room floor. Maybe Billy really had killed him that night and this was his restless spirit returned from beyond the grave to torment him for all the shit he’d done. 

When he spoke his tone was as sharp as his eyes.

"It's fine Max, I don't want some half assed apology anyway." Billy narrowed his eyes and bristled, aiming to get in Harrington's space when Hopper shoved him back into the door, Billy barely felt the handle as it dug into his spine over the same spot Sinclair’s knee had collided with. He was starting to feel that familiar anger rising back to the surface, swelling like the moonlit tide. It sharpened his senses and all of them honed in on the brunette because  _ how dare he. _

"Hey, I'm not gonna apologize to you when all that shit was  _ your _ fault. If you hadn't lied to me about Max being there then I wouldn't have had to do it."

Harrington scoffed and threw his hands up in disbelief. "Are you serious, man? You gave me a  _ concussion _ , first of all, and second, you were on a goddamn war path; you were gonna flip your lid either way!" 

Harrington was starting to get worked up now and Billy could feel himself feeding off that energy, just like he did that night. Distantly he saw Hopper ready to jump in if things got physical.

Billy grabbed him by the collar. "You sure as shit didn’t make it any better! Lying about having my step sister at some stranger's house in the middle of the woods with a bunch of teenage boys. You have  _ any _ idea what that looks like?" Harrington grabbed his wrist before the Chief could intervene, shoving his face so close to Billy’s he could feel the other boy’s breath ghosting over his cheek. "Oh fuck off Hargrove, you know it wasn't like that." 

"Yeah,  _ now I do.  _ I had no idea who the fuck you were, dude. I still don't know shit about you other than you suck at basketball and you're a goddamn pussy." Billy snapped and that seemed to be all Max could take because the next thing he knew she was between them, small hands pressing into his stomach and pushing him back, away from Harrington; protecting  _ him. _ She looked absolutely  _ livid _ . 

"Why the hell would you even think that?!" She sounded disgusted and Billy couldn’t help the surge of  _ something _ that coursed through him, frustration maybe? Annoyance at how fucking ignorant she was, still, after everything that happened?

The blonde turned his gaze to the girl and pointed his finger in her face. "Because Maxine! You fucking run off and don’t tell anyone where you are! You keep putting yourself in dangerous fucking situations and I have to come bail you out before something bad happens, just like what happened in California!" Max’s face turned an alarming shade of red in the intermittent lighting and she pressed him farther into the door, putting all her weight against the hands that were digging into the flesh of his stomach and ribs, over the bruises there. He swallowed the bile he could feel creeping up in the back of his throat and grit his teeth.

“All I wanted to do was hang out with my dad and you snitched on me! I wasn’t doing anything dangerous!" 

Gods above Billy wanted to grab her and shake the shit out of her, she was so fucking _ naive.  _ He grabbed her shoulders, more to try and ground himself and keep her from clawing at his bruises than anything. Lucas grabbed Billy’s wrist despite the fact that it wouldn’t have done any good if Billy actually wanted to hurt the girl. Like his words weren't about to to that just as easily as his fists could.

"Your dad was a fucking crackhead Max! Why the hell do you think your mom stopped taking you to see him?!" 

Max's eyes started tearing up and she stomped her foot. "That's not true!" 

He wasn’t going to lie and say he wanted to tell her this way, but Susan didn’t seem too keen on letting the cat out of the bag anytime soon -despite the fact that Max kept running off- and Billy couldn’t help but think over and over  _ what if he wasn’t there next time, if someone put their hands on her- _

"Yes it is Max! Jesus fucking christ the reason I fucking told Susan that last time was because your dad was about to pimp you out for a goddamn rock-" 

There was a sharp smack as Max's hand came up and connected solidly with Billy's cheek. 

The room went painfully silent aside from the small, hitching sobs Max was trying to suppress. Billy blinked slowly, trying to tamp down the urge to dig his fingers into the girl’s shoulders, instead forcing himself to let go of her. She backed away from him slowly, turning towards the corner as her sniffles got louder for a second. The others hovered around her, unsure of how to offer comfort without smothering her. 

After a moment she went quiet, turning around and wiping her tears away before fixing Billy with that angry glare she had when she’d been ignoring him.

_ So that’s how it’s gonna be huh? _

In that moment Billy became painfully aware how separate he was from the group, both physically and metaphorically. All of them were _Max’s_ _friends,_ even Hopper it seemed, and they were huddled around her offering silent comfort after Billy had essentially pulled the rug from beneath her about her dad. Lucas had his hand brushing softly against the back of hers, Dustin was offering that goofy smile that seemed to be perpetually plastered across his face, Harrington was giving her that concerned look, and Hopper. Hopper was glaring a hole in Billy’s face. It reminded him of Neil.

He felt his eyes get hot and bit the inside of his cheek.

_ Tears are for pussies _

"I think that's enough for right now. I want everyone to back off and calm down, capiche?" The Chief said briskly, standing up to his full height and using it to leer over Billy. He wished he could have backed away from Hopper but he was already crammed against the door so he just crossed his arms and glared at the floor. 

There was an awkward silence for a while that Billy was sort of thankful for because it gave him time to pull himself together. Gave him time to put his walls back up and tack his devil may care attitude back in place.

The cabbage patch kid pulled a few bottles off the shelves and inspected them curiously. He popped open a bottle and made to shake some out while Harrington threw his hands up. "Man, what are you doing? You can't just go through this stuff." "I'm just looking Steve! What’s war-fer-en?"

Hopper sighed irritably and rubbed at his knee.

“Man, I don’t know.” 

Billy pulled the crushed pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and lit one, Hopper following suit with his own less crumpled pack. Billy used his cigarette to gesture to the bottle in the kid's hands and cleared his throat. “Warfarin is an anticoagulant. You can give small doses to humans and it's a blood thinner, give it to rats and they'll exsanguinate." Harrington's eyebrows shot into his hairline and Hopper watched out of the corner of his eye.

"What's that?" 

Dustin carefully put the bottle back on the shelf.

"They bleed to death from the inside cus their blood won't clot." Billy said simply and Lucas shot him a horrified look. " _ Why _ do you know that?" Billy blew a lungful of smoke towards the ceiling and blinked slowly, brain taking longer to process the words than usual. "Worked in a pharmacy in Cali for a bit. Picked up a few things. We could probably still use any antibiotics laying around. They're usually still good 10 years after their projected shelf life." 

"Really?" Dustin asked, already looking through the labels. Billy leaned forward to pull his backpack off and tossed it on the floor next to him. "Amoxicillin and Cefaclor. Toss some ibuprofen and hydrocodone in there too." 

This time it was Harrington who was side eyeing him but said nothing, instead choosing to watch Dustin and Lucas sift through the bottles on the shelves. Hooper rubbed his eyes and flicked his cigarette butt into the sink before lowering the duffel bag on his shoulder and pulling out a map. "Okay look. We need to make a plan to get to the lab. We're gonna plan for a worse case scenario; we're stuck for a week, like Will." The Chief said, pointing to the backpack. "This is a good start but we're going to need more supplies. Hargrove, what all you got in there?" 

He turned his piercing gaze on Billy.

The cold metal of the door he was leaning against was leaching all his body heat and Billy rubbed at his arms in an attempt to warm them up as he puffed on his cigarette, sliding down so he was sitting with his knees bent and legs apart. "Uh..whiskey, a bunch of Bic lighters, more smokes, blanket, a knife..." Hopper’s eyebrow popped up but he didn't choose to comment, instead turning his attention back to the kids and Harrington. 

"That's good. I've got matches, a first aid kit, the map, and some more ammo for the gun."

He spread the map out flat on the floor and pointed first to where they were, then to what seemed to Billy like some random spot in the middle of nowhere. 

"This is our current position. If we just cut straight through downtown we can be out by the school in a few hours, providing we don't run into anything." He trailed his finger across the paper to tap at the location of the school and Billy absent-mindedly tapped his fingers against the floor, listening to the rustling sounds on the opposite side of the door. 

He felt like he wasn’t in his body anymore, like he was there but not. What did people call those? Out of body experiences? He didn’t like it. It was like his brain was going in a million different directions but he couldn’t focus on any of them. He could barely focus on what Hopper was saying. 

"And if we can't get out of here? Are we gonna kill those things outside? Can we?" Billy said thickly, not at all in the mood for this shit but resigned to the fact that he was literally stuck here until those things left or they killed them. Hopper ran a hand over his mustache and signed before looking at Dustin. " Kid you know more about these things and this place. Should we kill them or circumvent them?" 

Dustin looked at all of them before sitting up on his heels, like he was taking charge. "Well, we already know these things have a hive mind. The Mind Flayer-

" - the fuckin' what?" Billy asked and Max shushed him while the kid continued like Billy hadn’t spoken.

"has control over everything here so if we kill anything it might alert it to our position. I think our best course is to not kill anything unless we  _ have _ to." 

The others seemed to agree so Billy decided to go along with it, not really having the knowledge to protest. He was still kind of out in the ether about what this place was and about the things in it. Pulling his cigarette from between his lips and pulling his leg closer to his chest, Billy propped his wrist on his knee. He could feel the heat from the end of the Red on the exposed skin of his knee where his jeans were ripped.

"Alright, so we get out of here, pick our way through town to the school. We'll need to get more supplies as we go, water, food; weapons since me and Steve are the only ones armed." Hopper paused to light another smoke.

"Our problem is going to be getting from the school to the lab. It's the bulk of the journey and it's going to take us through a patch of woods. 20 miles with nothing in between. Nothing for us to hide in."

"The average person walks 3 miles an hour so in theory it would only take us roughly 6 and a half hours." Lucas rattled off as he and Max sat close, their shoulders brushing. 

"If we leave the school at first light and keep a good pace it should give us time for any issues we might have. It's-" Hopper checked his watch "12:23 right now. I say we give those things an hour to cool off and forget about us then we'll try to leave."

The all murmured their agreements and before beginning to chat amongst each other. No one looked at Billy and he didn't look at them. Didn't want to. He already knew he was the outsider here. Something they had to put up with. A nuisance. 

After almost an hour the shuffling outside hadn't died down and everyone was getting antsy. Max and Dustin had started arguing about some nerdy Star Wars shit and Lucas had taken Dustin's side, causing Max to give him the cold shoulder. Harrington was trying to get the three of them to be somewhat quiet while he tried to take a power nap or something. Billy kept sneaking glances at him every few minutes, taking in the long line of his exposed throat, the soft waves of his hair, the way his hands twitched against the thigh of his jeans every time one of the brats got too loud suddenly.

He knew he shouldn’t. He had no right to look at Harrington that way but part of his brain kept telling him it was ok to just look. It wasn’t like anything would ever  _ happen _ so he might as well collect more material for the spank bank, right? 

There was the sound of shattering glass, causing all of them to jump. Harrington looked ready to bolt and he had that fucking bat gripped tightly in his hand even though there wasn’t enough room to even swing it in here.

Everyone's eyes darted around and Billy turned to press his ear against the door. After a few minutes of silence he gave a thumbs up. "I don't hear anything moving. They should be gone." 

Hopper gestured for him to move so he could crack the door open. Billy slid out of the way of the door but since the room was so small and all of them were basically crammed inside he ended up almost sitting in Harrington's lap. Which totally wasn’t awkward. At all. 

His hip was pressed against the outside of Harrington’s thigh and Billy’s hand ended up braced on the floor between the other boy’s knees. 

Hopper opened the door more and Billy leaned back farther, nearly against Harrington’s chest; he could feel the soft puffs of breath on his exposed shoulder, feel the way it moved his hair lightly. “We’re good.” Hopper said after a minute, using his hand to motion for them to follow. 

**Dark Hearts Are Sad Souls**

Steve climbs unsteadily to his feet as they all file out of the dingy closet they’d been crammed in for the better part of an hour, muscles stiff from the cold and lack of movement. His head feels like it’s underwater and he can tell his attitude is going to be exceptionally shitty until he can get a real nap. He had really been hoping the kids would have shut up long enough for him to get even a 15 minute nap but no. He had to listen to them ramble on about plasma energy and heat conduction, along with a bunch of other shit he didn’t understand. 

Not to mention his argument with Hargrove and the things the other boy had said to Max had put him on edge. It was like the guy was trying to out-do himself on the Asshole Scale. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the blonde apologizing to Lucas. And he’d actually seemed to mean it, though in retrospect, it wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen in the last 12 hours.

As they made their way down some road Steve didn’t even know the name of, he let his eyes slide to the others. Hopper was leading the pack, maglight out and face firmly set. There was a small hitch in his gait and Steve figured the cold was giving his old knee injury trouble. Hopefully it wouldn’t turn into anything serious. 

Behind Hop, the kids were walking together, Max sandwiched between the two boys. She looked kind of funny in Hargrove’s over sized jacket but she wore it well, her hands shoved casually in the pockets in a mirror of the way her brother did so often. Lucas had zipped his blue jacket up as high as it would go, shoulders tense beneath the blue fabric and he had has hands shoved into the back pockets of his jeans as he spoke to the other two. Dustin’s wide eyes were fixed on the other boy’s face as he spoke, head nodding every so often as his hands gripped the backpack he’d slung over his shoulders when Hargrove told him to hold on to it.

Swinging the nail bat in a loose arc, Steve let his eyes drifted over to the last member of their group. 

Billy was walking just to his left, arms crossed stiffly and puffing on a cigarette. His head was canted down slightly but Steve could tell he was listening to everything that was going on around them. A street light to their right buzzed and the blonde’s head snapped up, eyes finding the source of the disturbance before he turned his head back towards the road. Steve watched as Billy’s shoulders tensed and relaxed, muscles flexing under the fabric of his shirt. He had to be freezing. 

Biting his lip Steve weighed his options. On one hand Hargrove was an asshole that almost killed him two months ago. On the other hand Steve was a decent person and he maybe, possibly, felt a little bad about that night at Tammy Thompson's party. So maybe this could be a peace offering? At least until they got out of here?

Clearing his throat and shuffling closer to the other boy Steve almost jumped when Billy spoke first, words coming out slightly muffled around his cigarette. “Quit staring at me Harrington. Ain’t some side show.” His tone made Steve’s eye twitch, almost made him reconsider his offer, but no, Steve was going to be the adult here. Play nice.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to borrow my jacket for a bit. It’s cold out here.” The other boy huffed. “Yeah, it is cold.” Steve frowned at that. It was weird, the way he’d said it, like he was just agreeing with Steve, not because he actually thought it was cold,  _ like he wasn’t sure if it was or not. _ Something uneasy started to form in the pit of his stomach, which was odd. He didn’t care about Hargrove, not beyond the socially required ‘this is another human being’ way. It was probably because he was Max’s brother, it something happened to him she’d be the one that had to deal with it. That train of thought had him stepping closer to the other boy and putting a hand on his shoulder. The effect was instantaneous.

Hargrove jerked away like he’d been burned, gold curls flying around as his head whipped towards Steve with an ugly scowl on his face. As Steve stared at him he felt his eyes widen. “Dude, your about to freeze to death.”

The younger boy said something but all Steve could focus on was how pale Hargrove was. That healthy tanned skin was dull and bloodless, lips that were usually rosy and bitten red had a slight bluish tint. Speaking of blue.

Steve’s gaze drifted up to those crystalline orbs to find them glazed and unfocused even as the boy snapped at Steve again, curls bouncing around his face as he threw his arm out to accentuate whatever he was saying. 

Without a second thought, Steve pulled his jacket off and pulled it around Hargrove’s shoulders, similar to what Billy had done to Max. Steve didn’t miss the shiver that rolled through the boy’s body as the heat transferred from the coat. He had expected Billy to shove him back, to yell at him, but it never came. He just stared at Steve with that confused expression.

Now that they weren’t in the heat of an argument Steve realized that Hargrove had quite a significant dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. Steve wasn’t really sure why he noticed, it wasn’t like it was important but for some reason his sleep deprived brain zeroed in on them. Maybe it was because they seemed so out of place on Hargrove. Steve associated associated freckles with cute girls, which Billy Hargrove definitely was not, though a lot of people would argue that he was  _ pretty. _

“Earth to Harrington!” Hargrove said, pulling him out of his thoughts and into the present. His hands were still on Hargrove’s covered shoulders and the other boy was looking up at him, mouth pressed into a thin line but he didn’t seem like he was actually mad, which was good. He shrugged under Steve’s hands and the brunette distantly noticed how Billy’s shoulders seemed more sharp than he thought they would. He let his eyes trail over Hargrove’s face as he ‘hmmed’ in response. He couldn’t tell if maybe it was the lack of proper light in this world, but it looked like the other boy had lost weight. Steve had noticed something different about him that night at Thompson’s house but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on it then, he’d been too busy wallowing in his own shit to really pay Hargrove any mind. Now that he was getting a -somewhat- good look at him though, Steve knew that’s what it was. 

“I said take your stupid jacket back, you’ll just get cold and die.” Billy muttered at him as he shrugged again, trying to push Steve’s hands and the jacket off. Steve snorted at that and let his arms drop. “How about you wear it for like, 30 minutes, then give it back?”

“Are you fucking serious? I-”

“Just let me be nice to you even though you don’t deserve it ok, asshole? As a thank you for saving Lucas.” Steve snapped and Hargrove shut up, fingers coming up to grasp at the sides of the coat, drawing it closer to his body. He looked like he was thinking really hard about something but Steve just turned on his heel and walked quickly to catch up with the others.

After a second he heard Hargrove’s footsteps behind him but the other boy didn’t speak to him.


End file.
